#but I do love that Charlie is the only one judging him/who recognizes what a mess he is

[waugh-bao]

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Puppy, (see premise post or series)

Summary: An ultra-shy man named Grant arrives with various friends to your family-owned motel. He opens up slowly over the months...and grows a fantastic beard. 🤭

While this part has no mature situations, this series will be 18+ only. MINORS DNI. This is mostly pure setup for the smut in every future chapter. Your media consumption is your responsibility; please choose for yourself if these matters trigger you. If so, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this work is not it! WC ~2k

He first arrives with only his friend—two fit fellas, one white, one black. They pay in cash, share a double room. The most information you get is Tom Smith, the more open of the two, joking that you’ll have to excuse Grant’s shyness.

Grant doesn’t seem to respond to his own name.

He’s a beefy blond, and your impression is the man doesn’t need to have a lot going on up top to get by in life. You do try not to judge, though. Your job is more about keen observation and recognizing the needs of your guests.

These two guests need privacy. They aren’t unfriendly, but they are not chatty. They go as quickly as they came. One night. The room is slept in, but they were clean enough.

The next time they show up they need three rooms, but you only have two available. Tom and Grant bunk up again, and a couple are with them who do not come into the office. The woman has beautiful auburn hair that she covers with a ball cap, and her very tall beau—whose hand she holds—shields himself in far more clothing than necessary this time of year.

They all sleep (you assume) during the day and only socialize at night when the other guests aren’t around.

Not that the party is loud; they simply seem more at ease when it’s harder to see. They stay three or four days, leaving rather suddenly early one night after paying for the time already.

Sporadically, this continues.

Once it’s only the couple. She is very reserved and he is very awkward, but again nice enough. They stay for nearly two weeks, enjoying hikes in the area, always holding hands. The woman relaxes significantly. It’s quite lovely to see.

Mister and Misses Durham, you know them as. They don’t always respond by name either.

Another visit makes five guests with the addition of a beautiful young woman. Her hair is cropped and bleach blond, and she is by far the most at ease.

It’s this visit that you realize they are just staying in their rooms during the day not sleeping, and you find the karaoke machine to take to Tom’s room.

He’s thrilled, thank goodness, because you don’t normally offer up activities to those who don’t ask about them, but Tom bangs on the doors of the other two (you think) couples so they can join him.

You’re about to leave when he asks you to do a duet with him.

Grant throws out that Tom enjoys Marvin Gaye. It’s the most you’ve heard him say, ever.

“I do,” Tom agrees, “but I don’t mess with the master.”

So you have the idea to sing Marvin Gaye—the song—with Tom as Charlie Puth and you as Meghan Trainor.

It’s quite a lot of fun, belting as best you can, finding Grant’s intense gaze on you for the lyrics:  I’m like a stray without a home… I’m like a dog without a bone…

Just as quickly, however, you have to go back to the front desk. Duty calls and all.

You make sure they know the machine is all theirs for as long as they want. Their rooms are too far down the line of the building to hear if they do enjoy it for long, but you get no complaints about noise. You hope for the best.

Later that night, Grant comes by the office, carrying the machine with a smirk on his face and the most genuine appreciation on his lips. He has a lovely deep voice you never knew about.

He just talks to you.

It’s all superficial conversation about the area, the weather, what activities you like on your days off, but even that seems a struggle for him.

Tom was not kidding. His friend is extremely shy. He has trouble thinking up casual questions. He can’t look you in the eye until responding, and he doesn’t give more than a few words in answer to anything.

You laugh--you have to—when Grant asks if he can walk you to your door, which…is ludicrous because you live in the house a whopping fifty meters past the main motel. Your family has owned and run this place for three generations. You’ve walked that path your whole life.

“I like walking,” he shrugs, though from the sheer muscles on him, he does way more than just walk. “I was gonna do a lap or two anyway.”

“Well, I have to wait for Clark to show up, but—“ you look him up and down “—okay.”

Grant is so sweet but so stiff. He holds himself with purpose when actively thinking, but you catch him having these distant moments. He withers like a violet, a shell that’s too small for his big body. He seems lost and lonely.

You’re glad to do whatever keeps him company. Your goal for the night is to make Grant smile as much as humanly possible, but that’s difficult when he won’t let you know anything about him.

Twenty minutes later, Clark, a local stoner kid who hardly looks up from his phone, waltzes in, stepping around Grant like a wall that’s always been there and throwing a “hey, man” out with zero regard for a response. Classic Clark. That’s why he’s on night shifts.

So you grab your bag and let Grant hold the door open for you.

Maybe you’ve been watching the Durhams too much when they come around, but you feel a compulsion to hold his hand. You don’t, obviously, because you only just heard this guy speak for the first time today. It would also be incredibly awkward to hold Grant’s hand in the dead silence that follows on your way up the gravel path.

You’re so consumed by figuring out what to say next that you don’t notice till the beast is right there.

An elk walks right in front of you, taller than Grant. From this angle the animal blocks the entire view of your house it’s so big, and you jump back, slamming into your startled escort’s chest.

You both freeze as it moves slowly at a diagonal to the other side of woods, bringing it and its gigantic horns closer still.

It squawks like some sort of awful banshee and stamps huge hoofs. You throw your weight backward and spin to flee, clambering over Grant’s body.

Why you’re so scared, who knows; you should be used to the wildlife, but no creature has ever done this before.

The most shocking thing, however, is how strongly Grant tries to hold you immobile.

The harsh grip on your waist and the way he hisses through his teeth for you to stop should be your hint, but instead you cling to him harder, asking quietly if the animal is gone.

“Uh…” Grant tenses against you. “It’s…it’s just—“ he shudders when you wriggle “—yes, gone,” he bites out, pushing you away by the hips.

He takes a second to breathe, buries his hands in his pockets, and leans forward, gathering himself.

It was scary. That could have turned nasty very quickly. You were lucky Grant was there and calm…except he was sorta the reason you were distracted in the first place.

Finally composed, he sighs and motions forward. “Let’s get you home.”

Two months later, Grant’s initial five o’clock shadow has come in nicely.

You’ve learned the routine of their check-in. There’s only one room available, unfortunately, but if they stay more than two days, there should be another open.

Tom shrugs and offers a playful, “we’ll see. We go where the wind takes us.” He smooths his palm over a fresh fade at his nape and the sharp angles of his goatee.

“And you, I see, have stopped in for a cut with Terrence in town. He loves the three slices like that.” That's how the barber marks his work. Terrence's shop is very popular.

“It’s a good signature. Wish I could'a convinced this big lug to get a trim.” Tom elbows his friend who stares at his feet.

Grant runs his fingers through his golden locks and swallows. “Yeah, well, maybe next time.”

Without realizing what you’re doing, you stand on the rungs of your stool behind the counter and reach for his lusciously full beard.

“Don’t you dare get rid of this,” you chide, fingertips grazing the skin of his cheek beneath the course yet soft hairs.

You should apologize. You should let go and sit back down. You should professionally hand them their key and be done with it, but instead, you linger, watching his blue eyes darken with a primal devastation.

He’s prey caught in a cage.

You release Grant’s face with an awkward laugh and a shake of your head.

Tom makes his own, very knowing face, and winks.

“You should do that more. Touch him. He could use it.”

Grant clears his throat harshly and blushes, mumbling something about which room number you said they had and that he’ll bring the other bags from the car. He leaves. Tom takes the keys with another wink and a sassy tap on the hardwood.

“Thank ya, ma’am. We appreciate it.”

It’s about twenty minutes later when your pen rolls off the edge of the counter, you find a small duffle left where Grant stood.

“He was joking. It was a joke,” Grant blurts when he finds you standing there to give it back.

You just smile and say Tom isn’t wrong.

“So, if you ever just want a hug…” you mutter, taking a chance to scratch at his bearded chin again. “Not like you’re gonna hurt me.”

He looks back inside, as if seeking permission or checking to make sure his friend is still in the bathroom, singing in the shower.

Grant can’t seem to meet you halfway, but he does inch forward, struggling to word a simple ‘yes.’

The tentative embrace starts with only the top of his chest touching you, bent so his butt is out, no pressure on his hands at your shoulders, so you push a little more and a little more. You get close enough he needs to wrap his arms around you instead. He has to stand straight so his chin doesn’t poke your forehead. He whimpers slightly when your own arms encircle his tiny waist.

A few breaths later, he relaxes into a lovely full-body hug, his rough fingertips on your bare skin where your shirt bunched up. You’re both being human, no more, no less, tangled in simple comfort.

Grant tucks his face into your collarbone suddenly and squeezes, not so hard that it hurts but not gently either. The move tickles you with his beard, your hands pawing up his back as you giggle, and he whines like wounded prey.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothe. “I can be here, if you want, to hold. It’s okay.”

That has the opposite effect you intended, knocking him out of some soft reverie and launching him back a foot, a necessary but unwelcome distance.

Grant looks guilty, needy, and resigned as he thanks you for returning the bag and sees you out the door.

dividers by cafekitsune and firefly-graphics

A/N: This will be the shortest (probably) of all the parts, and yeah, we get into some smuttier moments pretty quickly... Stay tuned!

[Next Part: Sweet Baby]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

[ms-cartoon]

Warning: This post will contain mentions of assault or anything along the lines of it. You get the idea.

My review for HH ep 2 was supposed to be out by now, but there are some things I have to say first. My reasoning for sticking around for Hazbin Hotel is all gone except for Vox right now. I love Husk too, but they really just kinda ruined him for me in ep 4. I'm probably being dramatic but that's just how I feel. If he's supposed to be this wise bartender who's meant to make people feel better and help reach an understanding of some sort, he really just failed at that.

EP 4 of Hazbin Hotel is probably the worst one out of all the eps released so far. There are PLENTY of flaws to point out, but they can be said for some other posts I'll upload soon. What I'm mainly concerned with as of now is that "Loser Baby" song sung by HuskerDust.

So it's revealed that Husk was once an overlord and was always gambling. He betted his status and powers when playing against Alastor and lost. Now I guess he's forced to do whatever Alastor wants such as being a bartender. . . .

Sorry to get off topic here but. . . . Husk was an overlord??? I don't like how they just suddenly reveal that. It caught me off guard. I know they sorta foreshadowed it in the pilot, but they should've given most newcomers to the show a hint or something. It honestly feels like the writers just pulled that revelation out their asses just to add some positivity and similarity between Angel and Husk's relationship (because Viv and the fans just love idea of this ship oh so much)

Also, since he was previously an overlord, how come nobody's heard of him??? Everybody will get shocked when they hear or see Alastor or recognize him by his radio shows. Everybody knows the Three Vs, Camilla, etc. but not a Husk??? The Overlord with a gambling addiction?? Charlie and Vaggie will get shocked when Alastor comes in the picture but look at Husk like he's some random dude that just popped outta nowhere?

Plus, Alastor didn't force Husk to work as a bartender. In the pilot, he was easily convinced with cheap booze.

Speaking of his gambling addiction; well we all know he likes to gamble judging by his appearance. But gambling being his addiction?? Since when was that implied?

Anyway . . . . At this point, I don't get what the idea of that song is or what Husk meant by it. Maybe I am overlooking it, but its pretty hard not to believe knowing how Viv screws up her writing skills and how she went about it. According to all the Viv defenders, the song was meant to say Angel isn't alone in being stuck in a situation he feels he can't get out of and that Husk can understand where he's coming from and what he's going through. Well sorry to burst y'all's bubble, but even if that was, they just did wrong ENTIRELY. (Sidenote: If you Hazbin lovers wanna see it how u see it, then fine. But Imma stick with what I believe and there's nothing that could be said to change my mind, so don't bother trying to correct me.)

Husk makes it seem like he knows exactly what it's like being in Angel's shoes; signing a contract and being forced to do something against his will. That part seems to be the only thing they have similar. Except what happened with Husk in the past should NOT count as a similarity!

Husk: Loses a bet against Alastor, costing his soul and status as an overlord. Agrees to commit to Alastor's biddings apparently, including being a bartender for a hotel (which he wasn't really forced to do. He doesn't seem to be afraid in refusing Alastor's requests. I partially don't even believe it was apart of the deal to do what Alastor wanted)

Angel: Is a pornstar. Forced to be a pornstar and do whatever Val wants him to do. Including submitting to him and his sexual needs, getting beaten, r8ped, assaulted (sexually even), exploited, drugged, etc.

What part of Angel's problem should Husk be understanding? Alastor doesn't beat or r8pe Husk! It's never even revealed what Husk goes through with Alastor. I doubt it's anything bad on his part, since he clearly isn't afraid to talk smack to the powerful radio demon who could kill him in an instant. They just . . . had that past and now Husk is doing him a permanant favor. What Husk is doing now isn't even anything bad. He's working as a bartender for a hotel and is being paid to do it. He may not like, but it's nothing bad. What ANGEL is going through on the other hand?? The word "bad" doesn't even begin to cover it.

Husk may not know what Angel goes through (though he should connect the dots since Angel hinted at him when he revealed he gets drugged all the time) but Angel just full on agreeing with him and accepting that he's a loser for what he goes through and having to embrace his situation????

Ummm . . . . NO!

Bro! You just saw Angel about to get drugged!! He should NOT have to accept that!!

[imjustabeanie]

Matchup trade with @karusenka

Your Hazbin hotel match is....Lucifer!

Now even with your no no character I would’ve chosen Lucifer. You two are made for each other! You both need a fun partner with whom you can be yourself and won’t stress you out. Plus you’re both short (jk. He’s short compared to other demons but probably tall compared to humans lol. But you my friend are short).

You two met at the hotel, you were a friend of Charlie and somehow clicked with her dad. While the romantic tension appeared pretty early between you two, there was a lot of pinning. Lucifer never really got over Lilith and is pretty bad at social interactions to be honest. He probably lost hope in love and is just focused on helping his daughter. Said daughter is actually the one who encouraged him to go back to dating seeing how lonely he is. Lucifer may be prideful (he’s pride duh) but he sent a duck to ask you out. Yes a rubber duck somehow spelled will you be my lover and when you accepted you heard a loud ‘yes! (take that depression!’ in the hallway.

One of the reasons Lucifer liked you is actually your humor to be honest. Hey it may be childish to some but he’s a history old fallen angel making rubber ducks in his room. He literally can’t judge you. Especially when he himself chimes in with jokes of his own. They’re mostly bad puns and bad jokes which makes everyone groan and made Charlie question why she let the two of you meet. Don’t get me started on his corny pick up lines! You two are a funny couple who prank people and just live life as it is. He tries to appear serious but fails spectacularly when he’s with you. He just feels comfortable enough to be himself. Away from the judgmental stares and calculating glares. Only moment where he’ll get serious is when someone somehow attacks you. He won’t hold back at all. Scary dog privileges lol.

Just like you, Lucifer gets annoyed when his kindness and actions aren’t recognized. Which is normal, if you go out of your way to help out someone the least they can do is thank you. You two always notice each other actions and it’s nice because none feels ignored. He feels valued, like he can lift mountains without breaking a sweat (which he probably can honestly) when you acknowledge him. It’s because he shares his love in acts of service, words and some gift giving. He does his best to make your stay as comfortable as he can and literally treats you like a queen. He acknowledge your feelings and validates them. You don’t have to feel so guilty for being yourself. You’re in the right and some pride is good for you. Don’t let yourself be dragged to the mud. He probably shows off the things you do for him to be honest. Lucifer finds your sensitive soul to be endearing. He’s probably sensible too but had to harden himself to stay where he is. That’s why he cheriches it, you’ll notice by the hearts in his eye and the tight hug he gives you. He teaches you to put yourself first more often and turn a blind eye to what people say no matter how hard it is (if they say something mean….well good luck). Only thing that makes him worry is your clumsiness. He’s at this from babyproofing some rooms.

Lucifer also enjoys horror and probably introduces you to different horrors through time if you catch my drift. He’ll have some very good book recommendations and will help you meet the authors if they’re in hell. It always surprised people that you’re such a fan of horror despite your love for cute things. Your dates with Lucifer are often movie dates, shopping or just lazing around at home talking and rambling together. I see him being good at sketching and likes to do all those couple stuff you see on media like switching the canva every 5 minutes etc. He likes all those couple stuff. Also don’t worry for cooking, he has private chefs….I believe he shouldn’t be let a foot near a kitchen.

[rat-rambles]

Alastor isn't a narcissist.

I got in an argument on tik tok about this so now i’m walking us through the dsm 5 criteria for narcissistic personality disorder god dammit.

Before i start i'd like to say being like “oh he's a narcissist” just cuz he's evil and manipulates people is super lazy. also like we culturally have a problem with narcissists and just coinflating them with evil even though it's a real personality disorder with specific symptoms that have to be met and alastor just doesn't have a lot of them.

A lot of these points are going to compare al to Val because Val is actually a textbook abusive narcissist.

nine criteria are:

DSM 1: Grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievement and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements);

-So this is like how val keeps over selling his own importance especially when he was overstating the power of Angel's contract. Al never over sells himself except for when he fought Adam which he thought he had it in the bag that's just plain old ego

DSM 2: Fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love;

-I'll give this one, though I do think that the fantasies of controlling everything had more to do with no one being able to control him and less to do with him thinking he deserves more power.

Ding

DSM 3: Belief in being “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or should be associated with, other special or high-status people (or institutions);

-Him being close to Mimzy who's just a normal soul in hell and is in no way his equal proves his willingness to be close to people “beneath” him. He seems to understand that he's the same as the other overlords, hence him trying to get more power. Val doesn't try to get more power because he already thinks he's the best hanging out with the best. Al apparently also told husk about his soul deal at some point; they definitely seem to have a real understanding between the 2 of them, maybe because husk used to also be an overlord so he understands but still.

DSM 4: Requires excessive admiration;

-No that lucifer and Adam “because I'm the best” and “i'm the original dick” al never asks people to like him because he cool he dosnt want people to think he's weak but lest we forget he's in hell with a over lord for a rival no shit he dosnt want to be seen as weak, but mostly he lets just antagonsy him that's the whole reason husk felt confortable calling him out becuse he's ok with being bullied on main

DSM 5: Sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations;

-Again he doesn't make husk, mimzy, Rosie, or nifty ever acknowledge him as a superior except for threatening husk, you know saying his deepest darkest secret in the very private place of the hotel halls and actively using that against him in an argument. Threatening him wasn't cool but it wasn't “irrational” either. The only reason he’s an agonist to lucifer is because he needs Charlie to need him and lucifer just giving her whatever she wants kinda fucks that up. He expects people to treat him like the rest of the overlords which is fair seeing as he IS an overlord.

DSM 6: Interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his/her own ends;

-Ok this one could easily be a ding but i'm gonna argue against this. See with narcissism being a personality disorder, being manipulative would have to be well part of his personality. I'm going to make the case that it's not and is a survival skill he's picked up only because his other powers have failed him. Agin to compare to val, val gets a kick out of manipulating; he is heavily implied to have tricked Angel into thinking he cared about him and judging by the text he was sending angel he's still a little invested in convincing angel he somehow cares for him even though he's under contract and technically doesn't need to. from what we know, al came into hell and started killing people for respect. The first manipulation we know of is him tricking husk into losing his soul via card game which doesn't involve emotions and then isn't invested in husk liking him again. He’s ok with husk out right loathing him most of the time. He is manipulating charlie but that could very well be because of his sole contract but also is because every other means of power isn't enough for him. To me manipulation seems like a last resort when Al is out of options. I'll give it a tentative ding.

DSM 7: Lacks empathy; is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others;

-i think the most damning evidence that he isn't a narcissist is he has a deep understanding of how complex emotions work when others in the show don't understand. with charlie he uses that but a narcissist literally can't do that. He also wants to help mimzy for no personal gain and seems to show genuine empathy to nifty for no personal gain. I can't stress this enough, in hell he will uses people but he also really likes people and is very social he has friends he's just. again, IN HELL where everyone is actually out to get you

DSM 8: Envious of others or believes that others are envious of him/her;

-He wants to be in control of everything but that seems more to do with no one being able to control him and less about being better than others. But you could give this point

a tentative ding

DSM 9: Arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes.

-that's how Adam behaves, literally like that. It's literally one of alastor's core character traits that he's cool and Collected. he snaps at people twice vs val and adam who snap at someone in almost every scene they’re in. He was arrogant when he attacked Adam but he has good reason to think he's hot shit he's killed like an army of lone sharks his ego is through the roof but not uncalled for. Just seems like a normal man level

So that's 3 out of 9 with me being generous and he needed 5. I know I'm not the first to do something like this but I'm sure when people say he is they’re looking at the person he presents as and not what they show him as. Actually personality man's Got layers.

[breitzbachbea]

I wrote a Charco drabble that is very much actually about their families. Yeet.

~*~

"What's it like to be an only child?" Marco asked one day. Lorenzo in the kitchen, Marco spread on the sofa, in between fabric samples. Charlie was toying with a model car that Marco had gifted him and helped him with. Classic case of the gifter had himself in mind as well.

Charlie smiled at him with a frown and then shrugged. "Better than having siblings, I suppose. I dinnae. I mean, I basically grew up around Harry and Soph, because their Ma, Freya, was my Ma's best friend. I got more gifts than others, bigger ones. Well, until my dad ... you know, didn't see eye to eye with my wishes anymore." He had picked up the car and looked through the windows with one eye shut, to figure if it was crooked. "But I don't really know. More freedom? You tell me what it was like with six - I mean seven - siblings and tight money. That's more like what Ma tells, she was the third of five."

"I dunno," Marco said. Leg over the backrest. Sinfully expensive velvet blue fabric draped over the leg that stuck in US Palermo shorts. Somehow pretty sexy. "You had a lot of freedom, because no one cares for you."

"Chiara tried!" Lorenzo shouted from the kitchen and Marco nodded.

"You never had a quiet moment," Marco said. "And yet you were ... alone. Our brothers and sisters tried, but ... what do you want with a 6 year old if you're 20. You're family, but we could see some didn't care for us. Or for mamma or papà, or anyone except that sibling or so. Like ... it's family. Everyone was trapped there."

Charlie wondered what it would take for his extended family to finally burn bridges with him and Gwen. Or why they didn't simply do it - No more outrage baiting. Straight up no more wedding visits or baptisms or anything. The Fitzpatrick Clan could do without Charlie and Gwendolyn Higgins.

One time he had heard his mother lose it at his father.

"Look, your family's talking, too," was all Connor had said. Charlie was hanging on the stairs, waiting to sneak out with friends.

Connor had made sure Charlie looked at least like a police officer's son. And Gwen had been somewhat thankful, because Connor's sighs had more love to them than her family's. Connor helped. Connor didn't want his wife to be judged either.

But now he had sided with her family and that was a step too far for Gwendolyn 'The black sheep' Fitzpatrick.

Charlie had fled the stairs when the yelling had turned into banging doors.

"Charlie?" Marco jolted him out of his thoughts and he cringed so hard he almost dropped the car.

"Yes?"

"You weren't listening, were you?"

"No, I'm sorry. I'm listening now."

"Nah, it's for the better." Charlie wondered how his boyfriend could look so enticing to him, just because of the stupid velvet on his leg. He'd look good in a kilt. Cheeky, but dignified. "I honestly think others have it worse. Families who cared and were cared for. Other people took pity on our sisters. On us, as we were younger, until we began to be too bratty. Too upset everyone thought twins were a package deal. But no one expected shit of us when we left at 12. Too many mouths to feed anyways." He scratched his head and looked away.

"Do you see them around sometimes?" Charlie asked. "Bagheria is just around the corner."

"Sure," Marco said. "I think. At least."

"Hard to tell," it came from the kitchen. "Sometimes you catch a name and the face fits, but ... they never recognize us."

"If they do, they look away as if they've seen a ghost. Never saw Chiara again, though."

"She's either dead or moved away," Lorenzo said. Monotone, but with a somewhat downcast tone. Like Marco.

Some family ties maybe weren't meant to be severed and one had gotten the scissors out anyways.

Marco bulked up the fabric and Charlie put the car down. He could flirt a bit before dinner.

[allinmycorner]

It was 90s night on Dancing With the Stars - and it was also the quarterfinals! Yes, there are only two more weeks left in the competition - crazy, right? Salt-N-Pepa along with En Vogue opened the show along with a performance by our pros. Several pros danced to some big 90s hit songs throughout the show and Alfonso even got into the action during "Can't Touch This." There were more live performances during the dance relays but we'll get to that in a bit.

This week's show was dedicated to the memory of Season 9 competitor Aaron Carter, who passed away over the weekend at the age of 34. I was surprised and saddened by his passing, knowing how hard it seemed he was trying to get his life back on track. I hope he's found the peace he lacked in life and send my condolences to his loved ones. He will be missed.

As you can see, we had a double elimination this week to narrow down the field heading into the semifinals. So how did 90s Night go for our contestants? Find out!

Heidi and Artem: Heidi was shaken up after landing in the bottom two for a second time last week. Charli came to comfort her mother and Artem helped her show more vulnerability while dancing. But Heidi said she's learned to hide it because people online will use anything against someone in the public eye. She tried to channel that for her contemporary to "Ironic" and there were some powerful moments where we did see Heidi's vulnerability. Unfortunately it wasn't enough and she and Artem were eliminated without hope of the judges saving them again. I think she should be proud of how far she made it and how well she did. Brava, Heidi!  

Vinny and Koko: Vinny noted that he had gotten further than his fellow Jersey Shore cast mates and was proud of himself. But even he seemed to realize it was his time to go, especially when he finally ended up in the bottom two. He can leave the ballroom with his head held high as his tango to "What is Love?" was actually one of his better routines. So he went out on a strong routine. Looking forward to seeing him back for the final now that he is no longer in the competition.  

Charli and Mark: Charli and Mark followed up their Argentine tango with a regular tango to "Song 2," which I recognized once it started playing but never knew the title of. Charli at this point is a lock for the finals - barring some great upset - and has a very good chance to hoist the mirrorball trophy. Especially since she doesn't need to know 90s trivia to win it (though it was funny watching her struggle to answer the questions Mark and Alfonso posed to her as the only contestant not alive in the 90s).

Wayne and Witney: Wayne and Witney danced a salsa to “Motownphilly” as Wayne talked about how his career really took off in the 90s. And how he's never stopped, showing how busy he is during the week. But he still delivered a great salsa - maybe the best of the season. I believe Wayne is also a lock for the finals and could surprise Charli and Gabby by ending the season with the mirrorball trophy.

Shangela and Gleb: Shangela and Gleb brought some Girl Power to the ballroom as they danced to the Spice Girls' "Spice Up Your Life," with Shangela dressed as Scary Spice. And in my opinion, it was the best samba of the season. She lit up the room and really enjoyed herself. I think Shangela will end up in the final and will be very surprised if she doesn't.

Gabby and Val: I know Gabby's samba to "Living la Vida Loca" got perfect scores and judge Carrie Ann compared her to the dancer in the video. But I still love Shangela's more. However I think it's also clear that Gabby will end up in the finals and could also hoist the mirrorball trophy. Honestly, if the four I believe will make it do, it will be a tight race for the mirrorball trophy.

Daniel and Britt: Daniel and Britt performed a powerful jazz routine to "Enjoy the Silence." Halfway through the performance, the music faded out as Daniel and Britt danced to silence, bringing the audience into Daniel's world. Both did a great job without the music - especially as Daniel says he dances to the beat. But he and Britt did not miss a beat, which she admitted was hard for her. It brought the judges to tears and was a powerful moment that will leave on in DWTS history.

Trevor and Emma: Trevor and Emma opened the show with a salsa to “Barbie Girl.” He has come so far and it's been fun to watch his journey. And he and Emma work well together, including perfecting the Barbie and Ken look. Given how many times he's ended up in the bottom two, I'm not sure if he'll make it to the finals but I'm glad the judges put him through to the semifinals. No matter what happens in the semifinals, Trevor should be proud of his journey on this show. 

We now briefly recap the dance relay round. Each couple was paired up based on ability and danced the same style to the same song. One judge was assigned to judge them and that judge choose who they felt did the best. That couple was then awarded five bonus points.

Carrie Ann judged Vinny and Koko as well as Trevor and Emma as they danced to "My Lovin' (You're Never Gonna Get it)" performed live by En Vogue. In the end, she decided to give her bonus points to Trevor and Emma, which was a good call. He and Emma handled the relay just a bit better than Vinny and Koko.

Bruno judged Heidi and Artem as well as Wayne and Witney as they danced the samba to "Shoop," performed live by Salt-N-Pepa. Bruno certainly had his work cut out for him as both couples danced their hearts out. But in the end, Wayne and Witney trounced Heidi and Artem.

Derek judged Charli and Mark as well as Gabby and Val as they danced the salsa to "Ain't Gonna Hurt Nobody" performed live by Kid 'N Play. Maybe it wasn't entirely fair to let him judge Mark as we know they are very good friends but Charli and Gabby were evenly matched. But despite not dancing the salsa before, Charli came out and knocked it so she definitely deserved the win. (But Gabby totally gave her a run for her money).

Len judged Shangela and Gleb as they danced against Daniel and Britt in a cha-cha relay to "Ice, Ice Baby" sung live by former contestant Vanilla Ice. Both did well but I have to agree with Len that Shangela won the relay. Daniel held his own and is as much of a contender but Shangela just edged him out.

Next time it is the semi-finals! We only have two more shows before we know who will be hoisting the mirrorball trophy this year!

See you all then!

[nebulablakemurphy]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart (Part Five)

Jacob Black x Fem!Vampire!Swan!Reader

Summary: Jacob Black, alpha of his pack, would never fall in love with a bloodsucker, much less imprint on one. The problem is that Y/N Swan was human…until she wasn’t anymore.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The bike works for a while, Bella can see Edward; until she gets good at operating the vehicle. After that the danger is gone and so is any version of him.

Jacob and Y/N are hunting Victoria. Charlie is hunting the wolves, who he still believes to be bears, responsible for the killings around town.

Bella’s alone again.

She decides to try something new, to get that rush of adrenaline. Cliff jumping is about as stupid as it is recreational. But Edward is there, begging her not to jump. So she does, anything to make him stay.

———————————————————————

“She’s freezing cold. I can’t touch her.”

“Relax. Human hot box, remember? I hope you don’t mind, I’m gonna have to give her mouth to mouth.”

“Jake,” thwack.

Beyond the voices, Bella can feel pressure. Like someone is pounding on her chest, commanding her heart to beat.

“Come on Bella. Breathe.”

With a sputtering inhale she chokes up the water that invaded her lungs.

“Bella!”

The brunette opens her eyes just in time to see her sister reach for her and then remember her temperature, dropping both hands back to her sides.

“I’m ok,” Bella tells her, through chattering teeth.

“What the hell were you doing?” Y/N demands, tossing a blanket around her shoulders.

Jacob lifts Bella from the sand to lean against him, soaking up his warmth.

“I just wanted to see something.” Bella looks away from Y/N. The venom has eaten away her contacts and she can see her now for what she truly is.

“We’ve gotta get her home.” Jacob says, lifting Bella with ease.

“Your eyes,” Bella tries to warn her.

“It’s ok,” Y/N shakes her head. “Dad’s not home. He’s over at the Clearwater’s.”

“Did something happen?” Bella wonders.

“Harry had a heart attack.” Jacob breathes, the words striking like a hot iron. “He didn’t make it.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bella whispers to no one in particular.

“Let’s go,” Y/N jerks her chin in the direction of the road.

“I’ll run her,” the wolf offers.

“My truck,” Bella pushes feebly against his chest.

“I got it,” Y/N sighs, taking the keys. “You go, keep her warm.”

“On it.” Jacob nods, breaking into a sprint.

Y/N heads back to the truck, opening the door and waiting as it rattles to life. Her fingers curl over the steering wheel harshly, distorting it with the force of her grasp.

The phone buzzes to life in her pocket, not a number she recognizes. “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Edward.”

“Edward…” The Y/H/C nearly short circuits.

“Is Bella alright?” He asks immediately.

How did he know? “Now you care what happens to Bella?”

“Y/N please-“

“No,” she cuts him off. “Edward, you left. You left and you didn’t care. I mean where the hell have you been? Where were you while I was here picking up the pieces?”

“I’m sorry.” Edward grovels, the way she had on the front lawn of the Cullen’s home after Bella’s birthday party. “It was a mistake.”

“Your sorry means nothing to me.” Y/N ends the call. Tossing the phone to the passenger seat. Her foot pressing the gas pedal to the floor.

Arriving home at record speed, she finds a black car in the driveway. Carlisle’s car. Parking the truck, she jots through the front door.

Alice, Jacob and Bella are deep in conversation.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks Alice.

“I had a vision of Bella jumping off a cliff. I didn’t see her get pulled out of the water-“ Alice breaks off. Her eyes fluttering, then she gasps.

“What now?” Jacob runs a hand over his face.

“It’s Edward, he thinks Bella’s dead.” Alice chokes out. “He’s going to the Volturi, he wants to die too.”

“What?” Bella’s entire body lurches forward.

“Rosalie told him why I came here. Then Y/N-“

“You spoke to him?” Bella cuts Alice off. “What did you say?”

“I told him to screw himself. Not kill himself.” Y/N says defensively.

“Y/N!” Bella is hysterical.

She never meant for this to happen. “Tell me where he is and how to get there.”

“What are you gonna do?” Jacob leans in, his fingers closing around her wrist.

“I have to go,” Y/N rolls her eyes at the ridiculous nature of the situation, “save Edward.”

Jacob’s face falls into a scowl, “no, no way in hell.”

“Jake-“

“The Volturi, isn’t that some kind of vampire judge and jury situation? The ones you’re so afraid of that you can’t even tell Charlie what happened to you?” Jacob can put up with a lot, and he has. But this…

“Jacob, I know that this sucks.” Y/N pulls him away from Alice and Bella for a shred of privacy. “But it’s my fault. I have to make it right.”

“Stop blaming yourself for his shitty decisions!” Jacob roars, “it’s not your fault that he left, it’s not your fault that he didn’t come back and it’s not your fault that you told him to shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

Y/N takes step back, “please don’t.”

“Please don’t what?” Jake snarls, closing the distance between them. “Tell you the truth?”

“Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to do.” Y/N pleads, allowing his fingers to sear her skin.

“If you die…” he strokes her jaw reverently, “I’ll kill you.”

“I love you so much,” she turns into his palm and presses gentle kisses there.

Jacob lets his hand fall away as they break apart. “What do you want me to tell Charlie?”

“Last minute girls trip or something,” Y/N shrugs.

“How long will you be gone?” Jacob wants to say it back. That he loves her.

Y/N looks to Alice.

“Three days, round trip.” The pixie tells them.

Bella has already gone up to pack.

“Perfect,” Jacob acknowledges. Keeping the words to himself.

———————————————————————

The plan ride to Italy is tense. Bella hardly sleeps, she is a nervous wreck.

Alice is flooded with vision after vision as she watches Edward and the Volturi’s decisions.

Y/N plucks anxiously at the wolf charm on her wrist.

The car Alice steals is a beautiful canary yellow color. It shifts gears like butter and glides over the road.

“The Volturi refused him.” Alice says, surprise and relief in her voice.

“Should you be driving?” Y/N wonders, there’s no way she can concentrate with the future flashing before her eyes.

“You can channel for me” Alice offers. There is no time to stop.

Y/N closes her eyes, willing the visions to come to her. “He’s waiting until noon, when the sun’s at it’s highest. Then he’s going to reveal himself to the humans.”

“Alice, you gotta hurry up.” Bella pleads, tugging at the roots of her hair.

“Bella,” Alice coos, “breathe.”

Y/N opens her mind, but Edward is decided, so nothing changes. Until something unexpected appears.

Jacob. He’s seated on their living room couch, shooting the breeze with Charlie. Clearly waiting for something as his eyes flicker to the clock repeatedly. Her, Y/N realizes, he’s waiting for her.

“What did you see?”

“It wasn’t Edward, don’t worry.” Y/N drawls. Just her letting down the most important person in her life…again.

The crowd surrounding Volterra is massive, Alice cuts through as much as she can with the stolen Porsche, but eventually Bella has to make a run for it. To the clock tower at the center of the festival before Edward exposes himself in the sunlight. She is the only one Edward can’t see coming.

“So, what now?” Y/N demands.

“What did you see?” Alice asks instead.

“Doesn’t matter.” The Y/H/C shakes her head. “We can’t just sit here-“

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Alice steals a glance at her. “Jacob?”

“Does he always look so miserable in your visions,” she wonders.

“I can’t see him.” The other vampires admits, “the wolves are a blind spot.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.” Alice’s brows furrow, the visions are back in her own head. “We have to go.”

The two of them weave through the festival, skin covered from the sun that shines bright overhead. Finally taking shelter in a door off the alley way.

“Come on guys,” Alice pulls the scarf from her head as they enter. “Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

The ‘guys’ in question have glowing red eyes, their diet is strictly human blood.

Bella is against the wall, with Edward between her and the two men wearing black cloaks.

“No we certainly wouldn’t.” The shorter blonde man purrs. “Aro requests your presence.”

“Bella,” Edward addresses her, “why don’t you go back out and enjoy the festival?”

“All of you,” the larger man clarifies.

A third vampire joins them, a girl with blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. “Aro sent me to see what’s taking so long.”

“So no festival?” Y/N cocks her head to the side.

“I’m afraid not.” The girl gives her a tight lipped grin. “Right this way.”

The four of them are led down a long corridor to a stair case, then to an elevator.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here.

Edward’s eyes, dark with thirst, cut to Y/N. Bella tucked securely beneath his arm.

‘Sorry,’ she mentally shoots back.

He turns his gaze ahead as the elevator doors open onto a checkered marble floor. The ceilings are high, adorned with paintings that put the Sistine chapel to shame.

“Don’t be afraid,” Edward whispers to Bella.

“Are you?” Bella stares up at him.

“No,” he lies.

They land at double doors, pushed open to reveal three more men, seated in high back chairs that resemble thrones.

The one in the center moves to stand, the other brunette and blonde vampires can’t be bothered.

“What a happy surprise!” The man rejoices, “Bella is alive after all. And you’ve brought a friend.”

“I’m just here for moral support.” Y/N explains, jerking her thumb at Bella, “she’s my sister.”

Aro looks her over, “welcome…”

“Y/N,” she introduces herself.

Aro steps forward then, taking Edward’s hand from Bella’s into his own.

“Aro can read every thought I’ve ever had with a single touch.” Edward tells them.

“You are quite a soul reader yourself Edward. Although you can’t hear Bella’s thoughts.” Aro remarks, “would you do me the honor?” He extends a hand to Bella.

Warily she steps forward, allowing him to encase her hand with both of his.

“How strange,” Aro pulls away after a moment. “I see nothing. I wonder if…let us see if she is immune to all our powers, Jane.”

“No,” Edward protests, jumping in front of Bella.

“Pain,” the blonde girl murmurs, a satisfied smirk spreading across her features as Edward falls to the ground. He writhes silently at Bella’s feet.

“Stop! Please.” Bella yells, “stop hurting him.”

Aro watches her in fascination, allowing the torture to continue for a moment. “Jane.”

“Master?” The girl says.

Edward relaxes with a grunt.

“Go ahead my darling,” Aro motions to Bella.

“This might hurt just a little,” Jane warns.

But Bella feels nothing.

“Remarkable.” Aro marvels, “she confounds us all. So, what do we do with you now?”

“She knows too much, she’s a liability.” The blonde man on the right croons, from his chair.

“That’s true.” Aro replies, “Felix.”

“No,” Edward flips Bella behind him, having read his thoughts.

Alice seen Aro’s decision to have Bella killed.

And Y/N catches on quickly enough. Stepping in front of her sister.

Alice is restrained by the short blonde haired guard and Edward is wrestling with the larger vampire, which eventually leaves Edward on the ground.

Y/N’s never engaged in combat, but fight or flight is still a thing. She’s stronger and faster than anyone in the room, perks of being a newborn. She uses it to her advantage.

Fending off every attack the guard throws at her. But she is wreckless, untrained in her youth. Eventually she is restrained, with a hand at her throat.

The exchange gives Edward enough time to recover, he comes back swinging. For Bella. Anything for her.

Felix is strong. Edward is going to lose and her sister is going to die.

Y/N does the only thing she can do, “pain.”

The large man twists inhumanly at the crippling pain coursing through him.

Aro’s mouth sits slightly agape, watching in wonder as Edward returns to his feet.

“Call him off and I’ll stop,” Y/N jerks her chin toward Felix.

“Let us discuss this in a civilized manner.” Aro tries to defuse the situation.

“Tell your men to stop trying to kill my sister,” Y/N tosses the guard’s hand from her neck. “Then we discuss.”

“Felix, stand down.” Aro orders.

Y/N releases the man from her clutches, hearing him struggle to regain composure.

“You have the most peculiar scent.” Aro comments, “come.” He holds a hand out, “let me see.”

Y/N steps toward him, allowing his palm to rest under hers.

His eyes fall closed as he weaves through the facets of her memories. From birth to death and after life. “Ahh,” Aro coos.

Y/N resists the urge to pull away.

“Your gift is…untouched.” The things she could do, if only- “I can teach you.”

“Let my sister go,” Y/N repeats.

“So young, so much control.” Aro remarks. “To have resisted her blood twice within the first year. You are magnificent.” He smiles, drunk on the idea of harnessing the power she possesses. “You could join us.”

“I have someone waiting for me.” Y/N declines the offer.

“The child of the moon.” Aro recalls the boy from her mind. Dark hair, bright smile, “you love him impossibly so, against everything in your nature. It makes my heart ache.”

“Consorting with a werewolf?” Caius rushes to his feet. “Our sworn enemy?”

“This is different brother,” Aro stops him. If only he earns the young vampire’s trust, all that power will be his. “They have no qualms with us, nor each other. Misfortune has befallen them, much like our young friends Bella and Edward. This is a sadness.”

“You already know what you’re going to do, Aro. Let us be done with this.” Marcus motions dismissively.

“If only it were your intention to change her.” Aro addresses Edward now.

“Bella will be one of us.” Alice interrupts, “I’ve seen it. I’ll change her myself.”

Aro steps away from Y/N, to where Alice stands. Whatever she shows him must be proof enough. They’re free to go. For now.

———————————————————————-

The plane ride home is awkward. Both better and worse that the flight there.

“Thank you, for what you did.” Edward breaks the silence, as Bella sleeps peacefully against his shoulder. “Only it wasn’t smart. Aro has taken interest now, he’ll try to win you over.”

“Better men have tried.” Y/N turns her nose up at the idea, and him.

“I’m not going to push for your forgiveness. Or hers.” He looks over at Bella, “I’m going to earn it.”

“Sure.” The Y/H/C crosses her arms, “holding my breath.”

“Good thing you don’t need air.” Edward cracks a smile.

“Can you not pick my brain right now? I need to think.” Y/N tries to refocus. “Alone.”

“Jacob will forgive you.” Edward ignores her comment.

“Jacob always forgives me.” She whispers, “I want to deserve it this time.”

Edward nods in understanding. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

If he hears anything else he doesn’t comment on it. Falling into a comfortable silence.

Y/N is largely on autopilot until they make it home.

Charlie rushes out onto the porch at the sound of a car engine. “There you are.”

“Hi, Dad.” Y/N steps up to hug him.

Charlie kisses the top of her head, returning the embrace. “Jacob said it was a girls trip.” He’s not thrilled to see Edward.

“It was supposed to be,” Y/N pulls away. “He surprised us.”

“She does look better though, doesn’t she?” Charlie notes, seeing Bella.

“Yeah,” as much as Y/N hates to admit it, she agrees.

“Go on. He’s been waiting for ya.” Charlie nods toward the house. “I’m gonna have a word with Edward.”

“Ok,” Y/N takes the stairs two at a time. “Don’t be too hard on him though.” She calls after her father. “He’s been through hell too.”

Charlie squints at her, hoping she will elaborate but knowing she won’t.

“Honey, I’m home.” Y/N sings into the living room.

Jacob doesn’t say a word. Just makes his way to her and wraps her up in his arms. Inhaling the scent at the crook of her neck, deeply. “Never thought I’d miss your stink.”

Y/N takes a whiff of her own. “The wet dog and earthy tones are starting to smell like home.”

“Yeah.” He feels it too.

“Can I ask you something?” She murmurs against his shoulder.

“Sounds like a loaded question already.” Jacob can hear it in her voice.

“How much of you staying here is because of the imprint? How much of it is your soul needing mine? And how much of it is just Jake?”

“I guess I-“ he breaks off. “I’ll never really know for sure. But I think the Jacob I’ve been my whole life would stay. Imprint Jacob would have no choice but to please you. And my soul just wants to be close to yours, anyway it can.”

“Do you ever wish you could un-imprint?” If that’s even a word. “I hate the thought of you chipping away parts of yourself…to please me.”

Jacob nuzzles her forehead with his own. “I’m lucky that I got to imprint on someone who loves me. Someone I didn’t have to change for. Being with you is easy, like breathing.”

“I want to give you more than I take.” Y/N tells him.

“I can feel you,” heart and soul, “how much you love me.”

“You can,” the vampire tenses, “feel me?”

“I know how guilty you feel for leaving, how scared you are that you’ll have to do it again.” Jacob places her hand over his heart. “I’ll wait.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she argues. “You’re already giving away too much.”

“Stop beating yourself up. I can handle you. Have little faith.”

“I have faith in you.” That was never the problem.

“Give yourself some credit too.” He taps her chin, “quit brooding.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good,” Jacob holds Y/N at arms length, “now tell me everything. What’d I miss on the trip of a lifetime?”

“Well Alice stole a car.” She starts with the fun part. “Porsche I think, crazy fast. You would’ve loved it.”

———————————————————————-

The night they return from Italy, Bella insists that her mortality be put up for a vote. The Cullens gather around the staircase in their home, calling for Y/N and Jacob as well.

“You are part of this family, Y/N.” Carlisle rests a hand on her shoulder. “Jacob is your mate. Bella is your sister. You have a say in this.”

Jacob votes no.

Y/N votes not to vote. Only expressing her opinion based on her own experience. “I know what it feels like to have your choices taken away. I won’t do it to you.”

Life goes on. Y/N visits the reservation often. Like Jacob promised, everyone is coming around.

Graduation is right around the corner. Bella is waiting until after to become a vampire. Hoping it’ll be easier on Charlie.

He’s definitely not going to let it go a second time. He’ll demand answers that they won’t be able to give. They’ll have to leave. All of them.

Billy can see how much Y/N is wrestling with the decision. “In your heart you know that this is the best thing for everyone. Why are you hellbent on torturing yourself?”

“I’m not,” she shakes her head.

“You and Jake will get each other through.” Billy isn’t worried about that.

“What about my Dad?” He’ll be devastated.

Billy sighs, resting a hand on her shoulder. “What’d you want me to say kid?”

“Give me another choice.” She covers his fingers with her own.

“You having a pity party without me?” Jacob catches them, leaning heavily against the doorframe of his childhood kitchen.

“You were sleeping.” Y/N sniffs, breaking away from Billy. “I made you breakfast. Pancakes, French toast, eggs, bacon, sausage and-“

“And?” Jacob perks up.

“Chocolate chips muffins for dessert.”

“You’re trying to butter me up, huh?” Jacob grins, making his way to the breakfast table. “It’s working. Just give it to me straight.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Billy excuses himself.

“The Cullens are having a graduation party for Bella.” Y/N watches the wolf take a bit of food from each dish.

“Just Bella?” Jacob arches a brow.

She huffs, reaching into her bag for the formal invite.

‘Congrats Grad!’

‘Please join us to celebrate, Alice, Jasper, Bella, Edward, Y/N and Jacob.’

‘R.S.V.P. To Alice or Esme Cullen.’

“Wow,” Jacob takes it all in. “They shouldn’t have.”

“They gave them to half of Forks high school.” Y/N explains, “most of my senior class remembers you as my hot boyfriend from a different school.”

“I am your hot boyfriend from a different school.” There is no denying it.

Y/N bites her lip. “They gave me a handful of invites for you too. If you want…”

“Really trying to push the whole ‘happy family’ agenda.” Jacob takes the stack of envelopes.

“It’ll only get worse if we indulge them.”

“In a few months they’ll be the only people we know.” Jacob reminds her. “Should probably get used to it.”

Y/N nods, turning her gaze out the window. “The younger we start out in a new place the longer we get to stay.”

“So high school again.” Jacob laughs humorlessly. “Can’t wait.”

“I want to stay in Forks.” Y/N forces out the words. “I want to stay with my Dad.”

“Baby,” Jacob breathes. That’s one thing he can’t give her.

“But it doesn’t matter what I want. Bella has to turn. We have to move on.” Y/N squares her shoulders. “Just let me sulk a little.”

“Sulk away, beautiful.” Jacob takes a bite of scrambled eggs. “Just pass the salt first.”

Series Taglist: @remembered-license @itscheybaby

Part 6

[isfjmel-phleg]

After having a hankering to rewatch the Kit movie recently, I went back and reread the entire series, and does it hold up! Excuse me while I gush for a moment.

Full disclosure, I am (partially) reading with nostalgia goggles. The first three Kit books came out when I was nine, and I got them for Christmas and loved them. I wouldn’t get to read the rest of the series until much later, but I have fond memories of the earlier books and their familiar phrasing and illustrations.

Reading as an adult, however, I still got a lot of enjoyment out of them.

Kit is such a believable heroine. She’s likeable but has very evident flaws that aren’t glamorized and frequently get her into real trouble. She can be self-absorbed (as nine-/ten-year-olds are), critical, proud, quick to judge. But she gets to learn and grow and has come a long way by the end of the series. I love her.

She’s got more tomboyish interests and is contrasted with Ruthie and her more “girly” interests, but, despite the occasional clashes or impatience that can derive from these differences, the narrative doesn’t present one set of interests as necessarily more valid than another. The girls each have their own thing, but they can still coexist and respect each other.

Ruthie Smithens is an endearing character already, but the addition of a book from her perspective gives her more depth. We see her delight in the companionable chaos of the Kittredge household, as opposed to her own quiet home, with not even a sibling around. We learn that she often plays up her light-hearted persona to cheer others up and that she wants to be taken more seriously. She ends up going on an urgent mission with Kit’s brother Charlie (who doesn’t get much focus in the series proper and gets to be seen from another angle here), and Aunt Millie gets involved, and it’s quite an episode.

Not to mention it also gives us this quote from Ruthie: “I don’t really believe that life always works out happily like fairy tales do, [...] and the wishes-come-true and the happy endings aren’t the only reasons I like fairy tales. I like them because they show that no matter what happens to us, it’s how we act along the way that matters. We still get to choose what kind of people we want to be. And, well, I guess I’d rather be foolish but hopeful about people than smart but stingy and distrustful.”

Which is a fitting follow-up to the book it is set immediately after chronologically, Kit’s Surprise, in which the very practical Kit comes to realize the importance of fiction as a welcome escape from and way to cope with one’s troubles. Practicality and imagination can exist side by side and are both important. I love these girls, I love their friendship, and I also love the trio that forms as the series progresses.

Because Stirling Howard has a really good arc too. Kit initially dismisses him as a sickly nonentity but gradually recognizes that he’s...well, a person, with his own interests and talents and a sly sense of humor. Both children have lost a lot because of the Depression, and they’re dealing with it in different ways and need each other’s support and friendship. His skills and perspective enhance Kit and Ruthie’s dynamic, and being friends with them sends him off on a quiet, gradual self-confidence arc. (By book 5, he voluntarily goes out and gets a job so he can support himself and his mother. At age ten. Impressive, but also kind of sad.)

(Oh, and Kit Learns a Lesson, where the trio finally come together, is quite twisty for a sixtyish-page book. My nine-year-old self was shook at those reveals.)

The supporting cast in general are given more realism and depth than I would expect from a children’s series. The adults’ concerns, which are beyond the scope of our young protagonist’s POV, are evident between the lines; they feel like people.

Valerie Tripp even devotes a whole short story (”Kit’s Home Run”) to giving depth to Mrs. Howard of all people (who otherwise has been almost a caricature of an overprotective mother, at least from Kit’s POV), and I love this. So much of Kit’s story is about understanding the people around her better. What more fitting journey could there be for an aspiring writer?

[amphibious-entity]

TMBS Book 1 Brain Dump

~An Embarrassingly Long Post~

I don’t know why I’m writing this or why I’m so determined to do it. Maybe to finally assume my true form and become a mega dork on main, or maybe just for fun!

This is basically a compilation of all the main points running through my head after reading The Mysterious Benedict Society (2007) for the first time. Rather than posting a ton and spamming the tag, everything’s here in one neat package! (hopefully this gets it all out of my system rip)

Contents:

The Book Itself

The Book Itself, for real this time

The Characters

A Funny Parallel

The S.Q. Section

Lines & Scenes I Liked

Spoilers abound!

The Book Itself

Upon acquiring the first three books (don’t judge me pls), I was surprised at just how long they are. Like, they’re still pretty light being paperbacks and all, but these books are hefty lads.

The first book has this Disney+ Original Series circle thing printed on it, which is kind of unfortunate. Regardless, I love the cover illustration and yellow is actually my favorite color :D It made me weirdly quite happy whenever I saw the book lying around in my room

Also, it’s really cute how there’s a letter from Mr. Benedict at the end! (It only reveals that you can find out his first name if you “know the code”, meaning the bit of Morse printed below the summary on the back.) Shock and horror, though, as I realized I’m starting to recognize some of the letters

The Book Itself, for real this time

It’s wonderful how the tone of the book really shone through to the show adaptation. Something about the deliberateness of the aesthetic, from the set designs to the fashion to scene compositions, that really sells that particular style— like it’s very clear that this story is being told to us, rather than one we’re seeing unfold, if that makes sense.

Where that narration style stood out to me the most was the first chapter. We are told (rather than shown) how Reynie gets himself to the point of the second test, and there’s this whole twisty time maneuver for that whole sequence of events that’s really interesting

A super secret fun fact about me is that I wanted to be a writer when I was younger! So this particular balance of show vs. tell is really neat, since it runs counter to my own tendencies. The sheer amount of commas in every sentence is also kind of comforting, since Ahah, I Do That in those few serious-ish attempts at writing lol

Overall this book’s style reminds me a lot of Roald Dahl’s books, which are very nostalgic for me :D The whole “kids are more competent than adults” angle helps a lot too haha

The Characters

Oh boy here’s where I get a little bit critical! Overall I did really like this book!! it’s just that that expresses itself in all this weird “”analysis”” lol

Reynie - much better in the books than in the show

It’s sort of a lukewarm take but I feel like show!Reynie is kind of boring? He doesn’t have a lot going on flaw-wise, and obviously since he’s the protagonist he can’t have too many weird traits or else the kids watching can’t project themselves onto him as easily

(I call it the difference between an aspirational protagonist and a vessel protagonist. Going off of the Roald Dahl vibes, think Matilda vs Charlie. show!Reynie is more of a Charlie)

Thus when we get to see him really struggle with the Whisperer and doubt himself it gives him a lot more dimension, at least in my opinion

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

Sticky - my son

I’ve long held to no one besides myself and my long suffering sister that Sticky is The Best Member of the Society

He happened to hit a lot of the Bingo squares of Stuff I Like In Characters: glasses, anxious, nice :), kind of a coward but ultimately is there for his friends, etc

For some reason I don’t talk about him nearly as much as you-know-who, but I love him just as dearly

Kate & Constance - I don’t have much to say

Kate is really interesting in this book! I like how we get to see more of her depths, in particular that one passage about her belief that she is invincible being the only thing that keeps her from falling apart? :c

Also her constant fidgeting is relatable lol

Constance is somehow a lot more tolerable in the book. I think I’m just one of those people with no patience for small children, unfortunately lol

(Some of) The Adults

It’s interesting that they had such an offscreen presence for most of the book. Giving them more time was probably one of the stronger changes of the show

However if that decision was made at the expense of the white knight scenes I think the choice should have been clear

I like the way Rhonda and Number Two are written

Milligan always on sad boy hours 😔✊

The “mill again” passage is touching but kind of messes up the pacing of the getaway, at least for me. Maybe I should read it again to make sure I didn’t miss something

Miss Perumal is much better in the show. We see so little of her in the book she doesn’t function well as an emotional anchor for Reynie, imo

The Institute Gang

Jackson and Jillson serve their purpose well, and Martina was surprising to say the least. I like the direction they took her in the show! I can’t imagine how funny it must have been to watch the tetherball subplot come out of nowhere lolol

These sections were written out of sequence, so random tidbit I couldn’t fit in The S.Q. Section: I like how he stumbles over his words. relatable

Mr. Curtain

While I think I know why they decided to not give Curtain the wheelchair in the show, we were totally robbed of Actor Tony Hale’s performance for the reveal during the final confrontation

Speaking of the wheelchair, it’s such a powerful symbol of his need for control or rather, his fear of losing it

The Contrast between him and Mr. Benedict. This point is expanded on in A Funny Parallel

Mr. Benedict

Oh boy, Mr. Benedict… How do I say this

I find it hard to trust Mr. Benedict, unfortunately

I mean to say, I do in the sense that I know he would never hurt the kids, thanks to knowing that a) this is a children’s book series and b) the meta (tumblr) states that he is really nice and lovable and stuff, but seriously. Why do the kids trust him at first?? I probably missed something somewhere

I like to think I’m an optimistic person, but unfortunately I’m also super paranoid. The premise of “a bunch of vulnerable orphans team up with a strange old man” is just so odd to me I don’t know how to explain it

I don’t know!!! I really want to trust Mr. Benedict

One of the strengths of the show is that we get to see him more often, and thus he gets to acknowledge more often that the plan is weird and that he feels really badly for putting the kids in danger and that he’s trustworthy and genuine

But his lack of presence for most of the book just makes him into something of a specter, invisible and unknowable, speaking only in riddles from across the bay

Which is why the white knight scene is so important!! I loved that scene ;-;

Because here’s an actual emotional connection! We can actually see it happening, rather than only being told that it exists

Reynie asking for advice and receiving encouragement, in words that demonstrate that Mr. Benedict actually cares about him and worries about him and agghh

It is a federal crime that the white knight scenes were not adapted into the show

But overall this whole issue didn’t ruin my enjoyment of the book at all! It’s just ->

A Funny Parallel

Okay, ready for my biggest brain, hottest take ever??

Mr. Benedict and Mr. Curtain…. are… the same

I mean obviously not entirely, given that one is benevolent and kind and the other is… Mr. Curtain

But seriously. Genius old man seeks out children (mainly orphans) to enact a plan. Said children often end up incredibly devoted to his cause and deeply admire him this is a little flimsy

Undoubtedly that’s intentional and is supposed to show the difference between them, like some kind of cautionary tale? “Let yourself be vulnerable and let others help you, lest you turn eeeeviiillll”

I guess that’s where the aforementioned epic contrast comes in. You get Mr. Curtain, strapped into his wheelchair and hiding behind those mirrored sunglasses, terrified (but unwilling to admit it) of ever showing the tiniest hint of vulnerability, vs. Mr. Benedict, who can let himself fall knowing that someone will catch him :’)

Anyhow I have nothing against the parallels, I just think it’s funny

The S.Q. Section

The S.Q. Quarantine Thread so it doesn’t leak out everywhere else <3

I’d like to meet the emo angstlord genius who read this book and decided to make SQ into Dr. Curtain’s son. What in the world

Okay I should probably preface this by saying that I absolutely adore both book!S.Q. and show!SQ with all my heart. Somehow, despite being a completely different character in both mediums, he has managed to be one of the best characters in either and certainly one of my favorites (besides Sticky of course) in the entire franchise, despite the fact that I’ve only read the first book/watched the show so far. I am confident in this statement.

But seriously! How?? Why?? I could probably write a whole other essay about why show!SQ is such an interesting character, and the change works so incredibly well. I’m just. Baffled

Okay, focus. book!S.Q. is such a sweetheart, oh my goodness. Like, 100% one of the most endearing characters in the book. Poor guy. I don’t even know where to start!!

He just seems to be a genuinely good guy at heart, despite being technically one of the bad guys. He’s genuinely happy for Reynie and Sticky when they became Messengers and helped Kate when she “fell” and was concerned about Constance when she looked sick and how he was in that meeting with Mr. Curtain and Martina?!!? aaahhhhghgh ;-; he just wants people to be happy TT-TT

Comparing him against literally every character at the Institute is probably what makes him so endearing tbh. When everyone else is so awful to the kids, it really makes him stand out. Like a cheerful little nightlight in the worst, most humid and rank bathroom you’ve ever been in

It’s kind of pointless to theorize about a book series that’s already concluded (I think?) but. Is the implication of S.Q.’s forgetfulness supposed to be that Mr. Curtain used him in brainsweeping experiments somehow? The timeline probably definitely absolutely doesn’t line up but like. How did he get to being a Messenger being the way he is now, given how cutthroat the process is? And then of course Mr. Curtain keeps him around as an Executive because he’s fun to mess with and presumably his loyalty. I’m very curious as to how their relationship develops in the other books, if at all. Those are probably where the seeds of the “let’s make them family” logic were planted

But wouldn’t it be hilarious if the reason we don’t know what “S.Q.” stands for in the books is that he just. Forgot

Another thing that occurred to me. Given that he and the other Executives were Messengers at some point, what were their worst fears? What is S.Q.’s worst fear?? Inquiring minds need to know

One last horrible little anecdote: I was thinking about book!S.Q. while eating breakfast, as one does, and suddenly it hit me.

I want to believe The Author Trenton Lee Stewart had the name for a character, S.Q. Pedalian, and was like, “Hm! What sort of quirky trait should this young fellow have?” Because, of course, in this style of fiction every character has to have at least one cartoonish or otherwise distinguishing trait to stand out in the minds of children. (For instance, Kate has her bucket, Sticky has his glasses, Constance is angry, and Reynie is Emmett from the Lego Movie)

Anyhow, he looks around the room, searching for inspiration. Suddenly he comes across a jumbo box of plastic wrap. Completely innocuous in design, save for one line of text. 300 SQ FT.

“…large… S.Q. …feet? THAT’S IT!” i’m sorry

Lines & Scenes I Liked

In no particular order!

Sticky quotes Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Evil combination aerobics/square dancing in the gym with the Executives

Everyone being happy at the end :’)

Everyone partying after Sticky reunites with his parents, and later finding Mr. Benedict asleep at his desk from the moment they shook hands :’’)

Literally any scene with Sticky in it

Any time Kate says “you boys” or “gosh”

[“Um, sir?” S.Q. said timidly, raising his hand. “A thought just occurred to me.” / Mr. Curtain raised his eyebrows. “That’s remarkable, S.Q. What is it?”] clown prince of my heart </3

S.Q.’s determined monologue about searching for clues after he bungled up the first time

Literally any scene with S.Q. in it (please refer to The S.Q. Section)

Reynie trying to resist the Whisperer.

[Let us begin. / First let me polish my spectacles, Reynie thought. / Let us begin. / Not without my bucket, Reynie insisted. He heard Mr. Curtain muttering behind him. / Let us begin, let us begin, let us begin. / Rules and schools are tools for fools, Reynie thought.]

NO MORE HURTIN’ WITH CURTAIN

Milligan showing up on the island!!

Remember the white knight hhhhhh

“controle”

A Super Secret Bonus Section

I would be extremely surprised if anyone read through all the way down here lol. Regardless, here’s a little acknowledgements section :D not tagging anyone since I don’t want to bother all of these people

Special shoutout to tumblr blog stonetowns for unknowingly yet singlehandedly demolishing my reluctance to read the books by posting a ton of cute quotes. Thank you for your service o7

Thanks to the two OGs that liked the post I made right before this one, for being my unwitting enablers and for sticking around despite being a) technically an internet stranger (hello!) and b) someone I haven’t spoken to irl in literal years (hey!!)

Last but not least thankz 2 my sister for putting up with me ranting about the book when I first got it and for asking about “CQ” sometimes lol. (i desperately hope you’re not reading this orz)

[luke-patterson-owns-my-soul]

Unsaid Emily

Title: Unsaid Emily - Charlie x Reader

Words: 4,698

Summary: Y/N is one of the songwriters working on Julie and the Phantoms and cowrote Unsaid Emily. When she has to work with Charlie, sparks fly.

Requested: Only by my idiot brain

TW: None

Author’s notes: I mean no offence to the writers of Unsaid Emily, but I needed it to be this way. Also, I know Charlie just got his car, but it fit my timeline.  I hope you like it.

Credit: @nikascott​

Receiving the call from Netflix to write a song for a kids’ TV show about a ghost band, you were hesitant, but your friend Dan talked you into it. You had written as a duo before – you wrote lyrics while he conjured up what you personally considered the most beautiful melodies – but this job was just for you. 

The brief you’d been given by the show runners didn’t give much away. A song for a runaway son to perform for his estranged mother after his death. The only other information given was that his mother’s name is Emily. Usually, you like vague briefs such as this, but without knowing more, you struggle. 

After speaking to one of the showrunners, you’re invited to meet the writers for more information, so you drive down to where the legendary Kenny Ortega is putting the cast through their paces at a band bootcamp. You’ve worked with Kenny before, so when you arrive, he welcomes you with a smile and a hug before the two of you disappear to discuss the song you’re struggling with. 

“Why don’t I introduce you to Charlie who’s playing Luke. He’s had intensive discussions with the writers and myself about his character and may have some insight on what kind of things Luke would want to say to his mom.” Kenny suggests rather than only speaking to the writers. 

“That would be great, but only if you can spare him for a few minutes.” 

“It’s not a problem. Hey, come and grab some lunch with me, I’ll introduce you, and then you can get the information you need.” You loved Kenny and wanted to write the best possible song for his show you could. Standing, you grab your bag before following him out and over to catering. 

As soon as Kenny enters the large room, he’s called out to and waved at. With a wide smile, he responds to everyone as the two of you grab some food and sit at an empty table. While you eat, you discuss the show, and Kenny’s hopes for it. 

“It may be aimed at a younger demographic, but I want it to appeal to all ages.” He stated as you’re joined by a group of kids so good looking, they can only be the cast. “Hey guys, this is Y/N. She’s one of the songwriters we’ve commissioned. Charlie, once you’ve finished up with lunch, could you spare her ten minutes to chat with her about Luke?” The cast members all say hi before returning to their food. It’s clear to you they’re all creating friendships as they laugh together. But Charlie isn’t getting involved as he looks at you. You can’t help but stare at the actor as his hazel eyes lock onto yours, a small smile on his face as he nods. 

“Sure, no problem.” He smiles wider and you almost choke on your food. Kenny looks over at you, a strange smile on his face. 

:: :: 

“Hi, you needed to talk to me?” Charlie moves along the table once everyone has left to get back to work. You look over at him, noticing how young he looks. From what Kenny’s told you about the cast, you’re not much older than him, but with his short hair and boyish smile, he looks a lot younger than he is. 

“Hey, yeah. I just want some insight into the character of Luke.” 

“Which song are you writing?” He asks, genuinely interested. He leans his chin on his hand waiting for you to answer. 

“The one he writes for his mom after he runs away.” 

“Oh, wow. Tough break.” You can’t help but laugh. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

You pull a notebook out of you bag and open it to a page where you’d scribbled some questions about the character. 

For half an hour, the two of you sit, chatting about the show, about Charlie’s character, and by the time you finish up, you’re pretty satisfied that you can head home and make the song work. After thanking Charlie for his time, you pack your notebook away, ready to go out to your car and drive home. 

“Do you fancy coming and watching a rehearsal before you leave?” He asks, rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand. You really shouldn’t, you need to get back home to start working, but you’re intrigued by him. Throughout your talk, you were impressed with the passion he has for both music and acting, but more than anything, the character he’s going to be portraying. 

“Sure, but I can’t stay long. I have a song to write for you.” You grin as you follow him out of catering and into the rehearsal space. Immediately, Kenny calls you over where he’s sat with the young girl playing the lead role. She’s listening to a piece of music you don’t recognize. 

“All good?” He asks when you join him. 

“Great. I should be able to get a rough cut over to you by the end of the week. Is that okay?” 

“Fabulous, I look forward to hearing what you come up with. Ready to see these amazing kids rock out before you go?” 

“Am I ever.” 

“Guys, let’s run through Now or Never.” Kenny calls out. Charlie and his bandmates grab their instruments while the young girl you now know as Madison turns the music off and leaves the stage area. 

As the three guys rock out, you can’t help but watch Charlie. He’s a natural lead singer who commands the stage, even in rehearsal, and you know his fanbase is going to explode once the show airs. You take note of his singing range, mentally adding it to the notes you made earlier. 

“Kenny, you’re onto a winner with this show,” you tell the director as the song ends. “I’m gonna head out and get started. I’ll let you know once we have something for you.” 

Kenny hugs you before turning his attention back to the actors and starts directing them to lead into another track as you exit the room. As you reach your car, you hear footsteps behind you. 

“Y/N, are you leaving?” You turn to see Charlie standing behind you. 

“I have a song to write, the final one y’all need if I might add.” You smile at him, pulling your keys out of your bag. 

“I can’t wait to hear it.” 

“Well, I better make it a great track then, huh?” Your words made Charlie grin widely again and you couldn’t help but think how beautiful it was. 

“You’re the only one to ask about the characters, so I have no doubt it’ll be amazing.” 

His words didn’t surprise you. You were a bit of a method songwriter, needing to get into the correct headspace when writing emotional songs. 

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint.” You bit at your lip as the ever-familiar seed of doubt began to grow in your mind. It happened every time, but you always managed to ignore it. 

“I’m sure you won’t. Hey, I was wondering if you’d let me hear it before you send it to Kenny.” That did surprise you. You’d been hired by Netflix, yet the lead actor was asking you to share something with him first. 

“Er… I’m not sure if I’m allowed. I mean, what if they don’t like it and don’t use it?” 

“Oh, right. Okay. Anyway, it was nice to meet you.” He held out his hand for you to shake. When your hand was in his, he lifted it and placed a soft kiss against your knuckles. A flicker of heat shot up your arm and your eyes shot to lock onto his. Judging by how wide they were, he’d felt it too. Eventually, you withdrew your hand from his, even though you didn’t particularly want to. 

“You too. Good luck with the show.” Unlocking your car, you climbed in, and started the engine. With one last look at Charlie as you pulled the door closed, you forced yourself to pull out of the parking lot and drive away. 

:: ::

          |@charles_gillespie started following you

 You stared at the notification on your Instagram account. It had been two days since your trip to meet up with Kenny and the cast – well, Charlie in particular – and you’d been working hard on the song. Intrigued, you clicked onto his profile and scrolled through his photos. He clearly loved the outdoors and spent a lot of time hiking or camping. You can’t help but smile when you see photos of him with his family and friends. 

You follow him back and put your phone down to pick your guitar back up to continue working. 

         |@charles_Gillespie sent you a message 

Hey 

Hi 

The app indicated Charlie was typing, then he wasn’t, then typing again, but no message came through. Shrugging, you put your phone back down and continued working. You had a title, a melody, and had almost finished the lyrics. It was full of emotion and if asked, you’d totally admit you had cried more than once while writing it. 

How’s the song coming? Another message from Charlie. It made you smile, but you needed to finish working. You turned your phone off and focused. 

Finally, the song was finished. All you needed to do was to record a rough cut to send over to Kenny and the writer so they could see if it needed any amendments before sending over the final version along with the chords and lyrics. You head into the tiny studio you have set up in your apartment and record the song. It takes three takes for you to get through it without crying, but once you do, you send it straight over and stop working for the night. 

Turning your phone back on, it buzzes insanely with a slew of notifications. Friends checking up on you, your parents inviting you to dinner, an email from Kenny telling you they love the rough cut and asking you to send a cleaner copy tomorrow, and a couple of messages from Charlie on Instagram. Now you’re able to respond properly, you open the app. 

Sorry if I’m disturbing you. 

I hope the song’s going well. 

Hey, sorry. I turned my phone off while I was finishing up. Kenny has the rough cut, so I’m about to chill out and watch a movie. Hope all is well at bootcamp. 

You worry the message you reply with is overly formal, but it’s too late as it’s showing as being seen. You busy yourself making some food and picking out a movie to watch. Settling on your couch to watch the first To All the Boys movie, your phone begins to buzz. 

Charlie 👅🍀

Instagram video 

With a slightly trembling finger, you accept the call and soon Charlie’s face fills half of your screen. 

“Hey, Y/N.” he smiles brightly at you. 

“Hey.” You’re a little confused about why he’s calling you, but you decide to go with it. 

“Kenny played me the rough cut of Unsaid Emily. I just wanted to tell you it’s beautiful and I can’t wait to sing it.” 

“Thanks, I’m glad everyone seems to like it.” 

“Y/N, we didn’t just like it, we all loved it. So many people were crying when they heard it.” 

“I would apologize, but my mom taught me not to tell lies.” His laugh burst out of the speaker on your phone. 

“Don’t, it’s great. It’s gonna be a great addition to the show.” 

You grab the remote for the TV to turn the volume down as the film you’d picked to watch was starting. 

“Hey, what movie are you watching?” he asks when you apologize for the interruption. 

“Oh, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.” You can’t help but notice he scrunches up his face, and you also can’t help but notice how adorable it looks. “What was that face for?” 

“I didn’t think you’d be a chick flick kinda girl…” 

“Oh, I don’t watch it for the story.” You can’t help but laugh as he tries to work out what you mean. 

“What’s the point of watching it then?” 

“Because Noah Centineo’s pretty to look at.” You don’t add the fact he’s not as pretty as Charlie. It’s not exactly something you can admit on a first Instagram video call – not that you’re expecting there to be more. 

“I’m not going to disagree, but is he prettier than me?” You laugh and roll your eyes at him. 

“I’m not going to answer that question on the grounds that I barely know you.” 

“I can see you blushing, Y/N. I think you think I’m prettier, but don’t want to admit it to my face.” He’s full on laughing now and you can’t help but join in. 

“Carry on teasing me, I’ll end this call.” You threaten, making his eyes widen slightly. 

“I’m sorry. So, tell me about yourself?” You see him getting comfortable on what looks like a bed. He’s soon lying sideways on the screen in front of you. You decide to mimic him, propping your phone against a glass candle holder on the table next to you. You lie on your side facing both your phone and the TV. 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Well, for starters, how old are you?” 

“I’m twenty-five. You?” 

“Twenty-one.” 

For two hours, the two of you throw questions back and forth as the movie comes to an end without you noticing. 

“Do you think you’ll come to set?” He asks you, surprising you. 

“I think it’s doubtful. Once I record a cleaner version of Unsaid Emily, my job’s done. I’m not needed anymore.” 

“Oh…” Did you detect a hint of disappointment in his voice? No, you didn’t. 

“Well, this has been fun, Charles Jeffrey Gillespie, but I have an appointment in the morning, and I really need to get some sleep.” You sit up, take hold of your phone, and walk out of the lounge to your bedroom. 

“Taking me to bed, already? Haven’t even had to buy you dinner.” Charlie jokes, making you roll your eyes at him. “Okay. Maybe we can do this again? Bootcamp lasts for a while longer yet, then we’re going to film in Vancouver.” 

“That would be great. And thanks again for being nice about the song.” You both say your goodbyes and once the call has ended, you collapse back on to your bed, unsure exactly what has happened. 

:: :: 

It’s been three months since you had Unsaid Emily accepted by the show, and in that time you and Charlie have video called on Instagram a few times, but you’re both crazy busy. You’re working on a score for a videogame while he’s finished up with bootcamp and has relocated to Vancouver to start filming. The entire time, neither of you suggested meeting up even though you both lived in L.A. 

You’re just leaving your parent’s home when your phone rings in your bag. Not recognizing the number on screen, you debate not answering it, but brush your thumb across the screen anyway. 

“Hello?” 

“Y/N? It’s Kenny. Are you okay to talk?” 

“Hi Kenny, I’ve always got time for you.” You hear him laugh down the phone. “What can I do for you Mr. Ortega?” 

“I was wondering, because you did such a great job with Unsaid Emily, if you’d like to come on set to watch it being filmed? See how we’ve adapted it?” Well, that wasn’t what you expected to hear. 

“I’d love to. When do you film?” 

“The day after tomorrow. I’m sorry it’s all so last minute, but I’ve been busy.” 

“I can just about manage it. I’ll book a flight when I get back home, then I’ll message you for directions to the studio.” 

“Sounds great. See you soon, and I really think you’ll love what we’ve done with the song.” You reassure him you will and end the call and get into your car to drive home. 

After juggling a few things around, you’re able to book a flight to Vancouver for the next afternoon. When You message Kenny, he reassures you there’ll be a car waiting for you. You decide to book a hotel for two nights and a flight back the next day. You’ve never been to a TV set, and don’t know how long these things take. As you pack an overnight bag, you realize you’re excited, not only about seeing your work come to life, but seeing Charlie again, in the flesh. 

:: :: 

Arriving in Vancouver, you walked through the airport and out into the arrivals lounge, looking for the driver Kenny had sent to pick you up. You were able to bypass having to wait for your luggage thanks to only having a small carry-on bag so made it through the crowds pretty quickly. When you emerged, you saw a row of drivers holding signs, but none had your name on. Deciding to find somewhere to sit and call Kenny, you move past the drivers in black suits. Directly in front of you is Charlie wearing a wide grin. 

“Hey you. Moonlighting as a chauffeur to make ends meet?” You tease as you approach him. He surprises you by pulling you into a hug. 

“It’s weird not seeing your face on a small screen.” He jokes as he leads you outside, taking your bag from you. You can’t help but notice he’s been working out and his biceps are looking impressive. Well, you knew he had anyway thanks to his constant posting on Instagram, and from your video calls, but seeing it up close makes your mouth go dry. 

“I’ve had to put make-up on. No filters in real life, Gillespie.” He rolled his eyes at you as he unlocked his car, an orange Nissan Juke.

 “Some car there…” You struggle to hold in a laugh and his mock hurt look. 

“Look, it may not be pretty, but it’s great for camping and heading out of town to go hiking.” He was almost pouting when he finished speaking. 

“Okay, okay. I give in.” you climb into the car. “Why aren’t you on set?” 

“I wasn’t needed for a couple of hours, so I offered to come and meet you. I have to be back once you’re checked in at your hotel. Sorry it’s a bit of a rush.” 

“Don’t worry about it. I can go out sightseeing while you’re working hard.” You grin at him. “I’ve never been to Vancouver, or Canada, before.” 

“You’ve clearly lived a very sheltered life.” He’s teasing so you just stick your tongue out at him before turning your attention out of the window as Charlie maneuvered the car out of the parking lot. “Have you even left California?” Again with the teasing. 

“Not only have I left the state, but I’ve also even left the country.” 

“That’s cool, where did you go?” 

“I studied in London for a year, then I backpacked around Europe for another, before coming home and becoming a functioning member of society.” 

“That’s actually pretty awesome. I’d love to do that, just travel around for a year and get to see so many amazing places.” There’s a look in his eyes you recognize. Wanderlust. 

Before long, Charlie’s pulling up outside your hotel and helping you out of the car. 

“I would make sure you get checked in okay, but I need to jet. I’m sorry, shall we meet up later, I can introduce you to the rest of the cast.” 

“That would be great. Message me so I know when to be ready and where to meet y’all.” He agrees, places a soft kiss against your cheek and gets back into the car. You watch him drive away before going to check in. 

:: :: 

When you took the job of writing a song for a TV show, you never expected to find yourself out to dinner with the cast of said show, watching them do karaoke. All of them have included you, which made you feel as if you’re part of their circle, despite their many in jokes and stories from set. Madison greeted you like an old friend, telling you she’d head a lot about you from Charlie. That surprised you because you hardly knew him beyond the few video calls you’d had. 

“He talks about you all the time, and Owen says he can hear his side of the conversations. He teases him about it all the time.” You stare at her, confused. 

“That’s crazy. We hardly know each other.” 

“Doesn’t stop feelings from happening.” She laughs at you, before dragging you up to perform with her. 

The entire evening is a blast, but you all have to call it a night early thanks to their early call to set. You plan to call an uber back to your hotel, but Charlie insists on making sure you get back safe. As you say goodbye to the others, Madison give you a look you don’t even attempt to try and decipher. 

“Thanks for tonight, I had a great time. You’re lucky you guys are so close.” You tell Charlie as your uber moves through the dark streets. 

“Yeah, they’re great and we’re like a family. I know it sounds corny and cliché, but it’s the truth. I think that’s why Kenny set up bootcamp. It makes going to work so much easier.” 

Silence falls over you, but it’s a comfortable one, and all too soon, you’re pulling up outside your hotel. 

“Thanks for making sure I got back safe.” You say as you get ready to climb out of the car. Charlie surprises you by following you. “Oh, you don’t need to see me inside, I’m a big girl.” 

“I know, but my mom would kill me if I didn’t. I was taught to make sure pretty girls got home safe.” You laugh but are filled with warmth at him calling you pretty. 

“I bet you use that line on all the girls.” You give him a nudge with your shoulder which makes him laugh. 

“Not really.” He holds out his elbow for you to tuck your hand through as he walks into the building. 

Once you’re outside your room, you turn to face him and thank him for inviting you out again. 

“It was a pleasure. I just hope you had a good time.” 

“I really did. I’ll see you in the morning, then.” 

“Yeah, see you.” 

:: :: 

The following morning, you’re up at what feels like the crack of dawn. You’re regretting the shots you had the night before as you climb into an uber to head over to the studio. The closer you get, the more excited you become. You’ve seen your songs brought to life on screen before, but you’ve never been there for the filming. 

As you climb out of your car, you hear someone call out your name. You turn to see Madison and her dad walking toward you. 

“Hey Y/N. How are you feeling after last night?” She asks, giggling slightly. You’re more than a little jealous of the fact she’s a minor and is unable to drink any alcohol. 

“A bit delicate, but nothing a strong coffee won’t cure.” You smile as she introduces you to her dad as the three of you walk inside. They stay with you as you’re signed in and given a visitor’s pass. 

“What do you know about this scene you’re watching today?” Madison asks you as you follow her through the hallways. 

“Not a lot if I’m honest. I know a little background to the song and Luke as a character, but nothing else.” 

“Woah, you’re in for a treat. I hope you didn’t wear any eye make-up.” Mr. Reyes laughs at his daughter’s words as you reach the catering tent. The aroma of coffee is calling you. “Well, I’ll see you soon, I’m first in hair and make-up.” The young girl gives you a tight hug and leaves you to fuel your need for caffeine. 

By the time you’ve finished your drink, and a bagel, the tent is filling up around you. You spot Kenny entering and he makes a beeline for you. 

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you again.” 

“Thanks for having me. I’m honored to be invited. I know this is a bit unusual.” 

“Honey, you don’t need to thank me. It was this guy’s idea.” He stepped aside to reveal Charlie, in full Luke costume. 

“Oh…” 

:: :: 

Standing next to Kenny, you’re silent as the opening bars to your song start to play. A lump has already gathered in your throat as you watch Charlie as Luke singing to his mother who can’t see him. You knew it was an emotional song, but hearing it sung live and in context of the show, you can’t quite believe it’s yours. 

You know they have some scenes to film that will be cut into the scene, but you can’t help being mesmerized by the tone of Charlie’s voice as he sings a song of regret. 

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as rounds a corner of the set, belting out the final pre chorus, the rasp to his voice, and tears flowing down his face. Kenny takes a look at you and grabs hold of your hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“You did good.” He compliments you. Wiping at your eyes, hoping your mascara isn’t running, you shake your head. 

“No, that was all him.” Once filming’s over, you make an excuse to Kenny and head outside for some fresh air. You’re feeling overwhelmed and in awe of what they’ve done with your song. 

“Are you okay?” Charlie’s voice is soft as he walks up to stand next to you. 

“I’m fine, just a bit overwhelmed. I never expected it to… to be that good.” You realize you could have offended him and begin to stumble over your words. “Not that I mean… you’ve got an amazing voice, and you injected so much hurt and pain into the song. It sounded better than I ever imagined it to.” 

You feel like a bumbling idiot and turn away from Charlie so he can’t see the embarrassment on your face. He moves to stand directly in front of you, using his hand to gently lift your chin so you have nowhere else to look but directly into his eyes. 

“If the song wasn’t right, I wouldn’t have been able to do what I just did, so it’s all on you too.” It feels as if his hazel eyes are looking deep into your soul. 

“Thank you.” You finally accept a compliment, making him smile. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure.” 

“Why did you ask for me to be here today?” 

“Because the moment I heard the rough cut of Unsaid Emily I felt it was only right you be here. There something in your lyrics and melody that will truly have an affect on the audience, and I felt you needed to see that for yourself.” He suddenly let go of you and looked away. 

“Why do I feel like there’s an ‘and’ coming?” 

“And… the moment I heard that rough cut, I needed to know more about you. That’s why I followed you on Insta and started the video calls. I needed to know you.” 

You don’t know what to say, not that there’s time for you to. Charlie looks back at you, places his hands on your waits, and bends his head to capture your lips in a soft kiss. It’s quick, but gets your pulse racing. He pulls away, slowly. 

“Is Noah Centineo still prettier than me?” 

You laugh before crushing your lips against is again, this time not so softly.

‘

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Tags: @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @xplrreylo​

If you’d like to be tagged, just drop me a message.

[keanureevesisbae]

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 8

Summary: The Celebrity Project has ended, however there is still a little event, where the contestants comment on favorite moments selected by fans. However, there is one big revelation.

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: Just messing with the otp, that’s all

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Three days pass. Henry and I are still in the cottage, but there are no cameras around us. I think I am and will be forever grateful that they are gone now. We can finally breath and act like a normal couple. Thanks to the Celebrity Project, I met Henry and I’m thankful that I did, but those camera’s are a pain in the ass and will never be missed.

Jennifer Lopez and Charlie Puth showed everyone that they were a whole lot better than the rest of us. Henry and I came in second, but we are fan favorites and to be honest: I think that is the best prize I could’ve ever won. Tonight there is a special live event with the other duos and after that, it’s officially over.

I can’t wait for that.

I keep trying to make some lunch for Henry and me, but ever since the camera’s are gone, Henry has turned into a piece of velcro. He distracts me with kisses on my temple, wraps his strong arms around my waist as he stands behind me. ‘Stop tickling me,’ I chuckle, as he pushes up my shirt, so he can touch my bare skin.

‘I’m not tickling you,’ he retorts with a chuckle. ‘I’m hugging you.’

‘You are tickling me,’ I laugh. ‘Come on, Henry, pasta will be ruined.’

He simply shrugs. ‘I don’t care.’

‘You are awfully clingy,’ I note. ‘What is up with you?’

Henry reaches over to turn off the gas and turns me around, to hide his face in my neck, kissing me there. ‘Just obsessed with you.’ He bites his lip when he looks at me again. ‘You look beautiful, Addy. Every time I look at you, you are even more beautiful than you were the last time I saw you.’

This should not make me blush, but obviously it does anyways. Everything he says and does to me, I turn into a giggling and blushing mess. ‘Shut up,’ I whisper.

‘No, never.’ He hoists me up in his arms with a satisfied grin on his face and carries me as if I’m nothing to the couch.

I sit on his lap and whisper: ‘What are you doing, Henry?’

He takes a deep breath, as he frowns a bit. ‘Am I going too fast?’ he then asks. ‘I can stop if you want me to, Addy.’

‘No, no,’ I say. ‘I like this, I really do, but it’s real now. I haven’t done this when it’s real.’ I simply shrug and add: ‘And now you stare at me and I figure there is so much going on inside your head and I have no idea what.’

His hands rest on my hips, his eyes locked with mine and a small smile toys on his face. ‘You want to know what is going on inside my head?’

‘Yes.’

‘I keep thinking about how I’m so lucky. I didn’t even want to participate,’ he admits. ‘But I met you here and fell in love so quickly. I have never fallen in love with anyone this fast. I keep asking myself what I did to deserve you. You deserve so much better than this. Better than me.’

I shake my head. ‘Don’t cut yourself short like that, Henry. If there is someone who doesn’t deserve this, it’s me. And don’t you dare to tell me otherwise.’

But Henry wouldn’t be Henry, because he already opens his mouth, daring to tell me otherwise. I lean in, to shut him up with a kiss. While he lets it happen and I fully surrender myself to his lips, his words keep running through my mind. He is falling in love with me. I’m falling in love with him.

When I let go, I let out a shaky breath. So much is running through my mind. Love, fear, lust.

‘Come here,’ he whispers, pulling me close to his chest as I melt against his frame. ‘You are tense. What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ However, I just come to a realization. ‘Oh my.’

‘What is it?’

‘Are you my boyfriend?’

Henry starts to laugh, letting his head fall back.

‘Why are you laughing at me?’ I ask him, slapping him across his chest. ‘Forget I asked.’ I already want to step off his lap, however he is faster and stronger. He pulls me flush against his chest. ‘Let me go,’ I laugh.

‘I wasn’t laughing at you, Addy. I was laughing because you are adorable. If you want me to be your boyfriend, I’d be honored.’

Good thing I was already blushing. ‘You want me as your girlfriend?’ I ask him.

‘I’d love that.’ He places his hands on both sides of my face and runs his thumbs over my lips. ‘You are beautiful and my girlfriend.’ He sounds so giddy and my heart misses a few beats. ‘My girlfriend Adelaide Park.’

◎ ◎ ◎

Henry has wrapped his thick arm around my shoulders as we sit outside our cottage in front of some large screens. We are catching up with the other couples and Jennifer mentions something about not being able to wait until she can sleep in her own bed again and not hearing Charlie snore again.

‘And from the looks of it,’ Justin says to me, ‘You two will be sharing a bed more often.’

‘Don’t say stuff like that,’ I chuckle, as I am nearly puking with embarrassment.

Justin starts to chuckle. ‘So, what did you two do these days without camera’s?’

His wife Hailey slaps his stomach. ‘Don’t tease her like that. Look at her cheeks.’ She turns to Henry and says: ‘Come on, mister Witcher, protect your girl.’

Henry only clears his throat and Justin quickly tells us that he won’t do it anymore. The energy Henry Cavill possesses.

I now know for a fact that I should never ever let him go.

Jennifer quickly gives a short speech, telling us how great it was to get to know us, to be part of this first ever season of the program and how much she would love it, if we would do a reunion after a few months.

We watch some fan reactions of the last episode and much to my dismay, we have to rewatch our kiss a billion times. It’s embarrassing to watch the first time, but it’s not getting any easier the fourth or eight time.

‘Look at this response on Twitter,’ Jennifer laughs. ‘“They are so cute, it makes me wanna hurl”. You two are disgustingly cute, that’s a truth.’

The night continues and I hum in content when I know it’s almost over. We watch footage of us when we first arrived here, the only ones not being awkward, were Justin and Hailey obviously.

‘But, what was Henry like before he started here?’ the voiceover of a man sounds through the boxes. He tenses up beside me and I look at him, before I return my eyes back to the screen again.

Henry is in an office I don’t recognize, with men I don’t know. ‘I have to work with her?’ I hear Henry ask, as he is looking at my headshot. ‘This is so unfair. Have you any idea how unfair this is? I’m supposed to win this thing. How am I gonna win this, if I have to work with her?’

I swallow hard, as I stare at the screen and sit up straight. I shrug off his arm from my shoulders. Is this real?

‘We never said it would be easy, Henry,’ I hear someone else say. ‘But work with Adelaide, make sure you two can win this thing and please, don’t make it too obvious what your intentions are.’

I feel tears in my eyes. Intentions…

‘Fine, but when I win, James Bond is mine?’ Henry asks.

‘Addy, listen to me,’ Henry whispers, but I don’t. I listen to what is happening on the screen. I recognize this, when the screen switches to outside. This was the day we went shopping, the day where we snuck in kisses.

‘You’re losing, Henry. You what that means, right? You’re not getting James Bond,’ a different male voice says.

‘We’re not too far behind,’ Henry answers. ‘I’ll get her to man up, so we can win this.’

I think I would’ve preferred if Henry just punched my nose back into my face. I’ll get her to man up? Did he seriously just say that.

‘And, I never knew you were such a good actor. I almost believed you actually care about her.’

On screen Henry sighs. ‘Maybe after this, I’ll get even more jobs.’

The air has turned cold as ice. Everyone is quiet and I stare at the blacked out screen. The only thing I hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears. My eye twitches as my jaw clenches. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from him.

Henry carefully places a hand on my back, but I stand up and walk inside. Thankfully we were at our cottage, since it has the best lighting, so I’m back there in a few seconds. I slam the door shut behind me and rush to the living room.

I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known. This was obviously too good to be true. How could I be such an idiot?  Finally, fucking finally I have cleared my reputation of being so stupid and ditzy and now this happens. The whole world knows I simply fell for Henry Cavill, because I was easy.

I’m such a dumb cow.

‘Addy, let me explain,’ Henry says, who walks into our bedroom. No wait, not our bedroom. The bedroom. A bedroom.

I grab my suitcase before I place it on the bed. ‘What is there to explain?’ I ask him, as I start folding my clothes. ’It was pretty fucking obvious to me. You only par- parti- par-ti-ci-pa-ted to get that stupid James Bond part. You don’t like me, despite what you said to me. You just used me to get the job and more job offers.’ I push passed him, to grab my stuff from the bathroom.

At that exact moment a cameraman barges in, not wanting to let this moment go to waste, but somehow I don’t seem to care. I don’t even want to care. I’m just too mad at him right now to give a damn.

‘I didn’t use you,’ Henry says.

I open the door a lot harder than I’m supposed to, letting it smash against the wall, as my eyes fill with tears, all because of his wrong doing. ‘Enlighten me, Henry, what did you do then? Because judging from what you and I just watched and the rest of the world just watched, it made it seem like you were using me to get what you wanted.’

He sighs. ‘I meant what I said to you. I like you and I am falling in love with you.’

‘Hurray,’ I deadpan. I put everything in my suitcase and close it.

Henry swallows hard. ‘Where are you going?’

‘I’m going to the airport, so I can buy myself a ticket home, to visit my parents. You know, I know for a fact that they care about me for who I am and they would never ever use me the way you used me.’ I stare at my suitcase for a while and seeing my passport on top of it, makes a sob leave my eyes. I hide my face in both of my hands, as my shoulders shake when I cry.

‘No, Addy, please,’ he says, placing his hand on my shoulder, but I slap him away.

‘Stay away from me,’ I spit out, ‘and don’t you dare call me Addy anymore. Let… Le… Let me…’ Why can’t I find the right words to say now? ‘I’m going to tell you a few things and you cannot interrupt me.’

‘Okay,’ he simply says.

‘You stay as far from me as possible. I would like you to never ever mention me in an in… interview again. I don’t want you in my life anymore, neither do I want to be part of yours. You bet… betra…’ I take a deep breath as I try to get the word out of my mouth correctly. ‘You be-tray-ed me, Henry. You used me and I genuinely thought you cared about me. You know how hard it is for me to open up and… Never mind, I just hate the way you make me feel right now.’

‘There isn’t anything I can do to make it up to you?’ he asks. ‘Because I want to make this up to you. There must be something.’

I shake my head. ‘This isn’t something you can fix. What you told whoever those men were and what you told me… Those things aren’t the same. It’s either one or the other. And yes, you can change your mind, but the least you could’ve done, is told me about it. If you meant what you said to me, you would’ve had the decency to be honest with me. You should’ve told me your second agenda before you told me you fell in love with me, before you kissed me.’

Henry blinks a few times. ‘Adelaide, this can’t be the end.’

‘It’s the end,’ I say with more certainty than I have ever heard myself speak with. I simply grab my suitcases and walk out of the room.

Tears run over my cheeks as I brush passed the others, who want to know if I’m okay, but I’m not. I’m not okay and I know I won’t be for awhile. I need to go to see my dad, to hug my mom. I don’t want to be in Italy anymore, I need to go home and be with them.

I already spot a taxi at the stand, but before I can approach him, I hear a: ‘Adelaide, please wait a second.’

I stop walking and I hear two pair of footsteps. Those stupid camera people, I’m not going to miss them.

‘Don’t I get to say something to you?’ he asks, as he stands in front of me.

‘You said enough behind my back already,’ I tell him. ‘Get out of the way. Don’t make this harder than it already is.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry won’t cut it,’ I tell him, a lot harsher than I did before.

Henry rubs his face, before gently holding my hand. I know I shouldn’t let him do this, but I just want to feel his touch one more time, because I know this is going to be the last time I’ll ever feel it.

‘Henry, please, let me go.’

‘I am willing to do anything in the world to make it up to you, Adelaide Park. You are one of a kind. You are the one that I want to get to know even better.’

‘Don’t,’ I say. ‘Just don’t. Don’t contact me ever again, don’t audition for the part as my love interest and please if you ever see me before I see you, walk away. I can’t have you in my life.’

‘No, please,’ Henry says, holding my hand up to his chest, placing his other on top of his own. ‘I can’t lose you, Adelaide. What I said to my agent, before we met… It was true. I only participated because I wanted James Bond, but what I told you is true as well. I don’t want James Bond anymore. I just want you.’

‘Let me go,’ I say, not looking at him. ‘Please, Henry, now.’

‘Adelaide,’ he whispers.

‘Right now.’

He lets go of my hand and sighs deeply. ‘Is this the end?’ he asks. ‘Please, this can’t be the end.’

My sniffle is his answer and it’s all I can give him. ‘Goodbye, Henry.’

[luninosity]

*wanders by* Look what I worked on today...

Warnings for…NOT actual self-harm, but Jason spotting a scar on one of Colby’s hands, a scar he doesn’t know the story of, and briefly considering that possibility. (The actual story is much more of a cooking-related accident!) Plus general warnings for brief mention of Colby’s Awful Exes and family, & related emotional abuse.

#

“How’s this?” Jason waited, fingers resting over Colby’s hands in his. The hotel room wrapped comfort around them; it’d begun as nondescript, but had welcomed Colby’s rainbow cascade of scarves and Jason’s tidy unpacking. It was their home now, for these next two weeks of filming on location. “Helping?”

 “Very much helping, thank you.” Colby obediently didn’t move, holding both hands out. They were sitting on the bed, having changed into pajama pants and t-shirts—Colby’d borrowed one of Jason’s shirts, too large but in a cuddly flattering way—and the day had been long. They’d been filming into the evening, because Jill had wanted the specific light, dwindling away as Colby’s young and brilliant magician character got imprisoned and bound by iron and tortured, refusing to give up and lead the villains to Jason’s hero.

 The chains and cuffs had been fake, of course. Hollywood movie-making magic. A vast leap from real iron.

 But that didn’t mean they were soft or forgiving. They’d had hard edges, angled in spots, heavy, with no real padding. He’d had to struggle against them. He’d had to kneel while the villains shoved his hands to the floor and—cautiously, weight judged for performance—stepped upon them, pretending to shatter bones. The floor, and the impact, hadn’t been soft either.

 The bruises and scrapes and cuts were all too real. Colby winced as Jason spread healing salve across a tender spot. “Ow. Sorry, sorry, I know you’re being careful, I’m not complaining.”

 “Tell me if it’s hurting too much.” He tapped a finger over the back of Colby’s wrist. “And don’t apologize for it. Are you sure you don’t want me to get the medical people to check you out?”

 “They did, right after. I know you know; you were there. It’s fine, it’s not—ow—serious. It’ll heal.”

 “Might need some wrapping, though.” Jason eyed the bruises, the nicks. They shuffled purple and red across Colby’s skin, shame-faced. He didn’t like them existing, though he knew they weren’t anyone’s fault. “Just for tonight, to keep all this on. Not too tight.”

 “Whatever you think works best,” Colby agreed. “You’d know better than I would, as far as stunts and injuries. Ow, oh, drat, that one hurts a bit more.”

 That one was probably the worst, Jason judged: scraped raw, layers exposed, across Colby’s left wrist. The edge of that cuff had been both rough and sharp. And obviously his touch hadn’t been careful enough. “Shit. Sorry. Love you. Is the numbing part working, at all? It’s supposed to be helping.”

 “Oh yes,” Colby said, obligingly. “It’s already better. Thank you for doing this.”

 Jason sighed.

 “It’s true,” Colby protested. “I honestly do feel better. I’d tell you if not.” Hair tumbling to his shoulders in loose dark waves—not a wig, but extensions, left in for fantastical mystical effect—he was elfin and pretty and earnest, wearing Jason’s too-large shirt, eyes huge and blue and searching Jason’s face.

 “I know you would. But I also want to know if it’s not helping enough, okay?”

 “Yes,” Colby said meekly. “I’ll say so if it’s not working, I promise.”

 “Okay, then. Just checking.” He tried to make his touch as gentle as possible. He tried to be as soothing as he could: a protective bulk, not a threatening one. Hands offering care, not more harm. Weight and breadth positioned harmlessly on the bed, no demands.

 He knew Colby trusted him. He felt a small glow of pride that Colby did: enough to admit to being in pain, to wanting care. He loved Colby and would care for Colby with all his heart, all his strength, all his soul; not a question, not ever.

 He still hated seeing Colby in pain. Always had, always would.

 That’d be true for anyone he loved, of course. He’d had some discussions with their therapist about that, about grief and loss and Charlie and Jason’s own desperate need to save people, to be strong. He knew that about himself. But it was worse, it was the worst it could be, when the person in pain was Colby.

 Colby was the other half of his heart. The brightest piece of his life, the piece that’d dived in and reminded him how to swim and that he liked baking, the piece that’d made him laugh and drawn him into whimsical chattering conversations about wizards and dragons and romance and coffee. The piece that liked pink shirts with sequins on the sleeves, and anchovies on pizza, and history and stories and words that could steal an audience’s breath away.

 And Colby had been hurt before, so very badly, for so very long. Inside and out, physical and emotional bruises, day after day. Jason hadn’t been there then, hadn’t known him for the worst of it. But he knew now, at least as much as anyone could, after the fact.

 He’d seen Colby flinch from an unexpected touch, get wide-eyed at a large body hugging too tightly at a convention, and—the scariest of all—go silent and someplace else, someplace not present, at a drift of familiar cologne and a flash-flood of memory in the air. He knew what Colby had told him, which was enough to make Jason carefully store up a lot of emotions and then go down to the gym and beat the hell out of a punching bag for long enough to get his reactions under control.

 He knew about Colby’s family, too. The layers of those bruises—not physical, but emotional, a slow brutal evisceration of Colby’s sense of self and self-worth—went back decades. They were working on it; their therapist said that Jason being here, not leaving, not making Colby earn any crumb of affection, was the exact best thing he could do. Jason hoped so.

 He wished he could do more. He wished he could fight all of Colby’s demons. Like his character in this film, raising a sword. Lifting a shield. Fighting for a cause.

 He knew Colby’s hands pretty well, by now. He knew the way those slim graceful fingers felt in his, on his body—in his body, and oh that was always fun, Colby teasing him open and stroking him and pressing inside him. He knew Colby’s gestures on and off camera, the weight and shape of his palms, the backs of his hands, the old scars from period-piece swordfighting lessons and some small-scale stunt work, comedy pratfalls and in-role clumsiness. He knew about the short jagged line on the outside of Colby’s little finger on the right hand, from hopping a fence while filming a scene for that high-school coming-of-age comedy.

 He knew he didn’t know every smallest detail—he didn’t have a photographic memory—but he had a decent idea of Colby’s hands, he thought.

 Which was why his fingers slowed and came to a stop, as they felt something—as his gaze landed on something—that he didn’t recognize.

 Thin. White. Just above the heel of Colby’s left hand, across his palm. Long-healed—no texture at all, only noticeable if someone was paying extremely close attention, but enough to’ve left a line. Liam, Jason thought first, with a shock of anger like scarlet blood—but no, this was older than a handful of years, older than any injuries at Colby’s ex’s hands. Clearly so.

 Colby hadn’t seemed to notice—he’d been looking at Jason’s other hand, which had scooped up more salve—but he noticed the pause now. His eyes came up to find Jason’s, huge and flower-blue.

 Jason turned Colby’s hand more upward. Touched the line, very very lightly. His fingers shook.

 “Oh,” Colby said, soft with love, wry in the way of someone realizing, “no, it’s not what you’re thinking, and don’t say you weren’t thinking of at least two possibilities. It’s not either of those. I, er…well, I was about eleven years old and I’d been trying to prepare dinner for myself and I had absolutely nonexistent knife skills with regard to chopping carrots. And my father’s chef kept his knives very sharp.”

 “You were making dinner…for yourself?” He touched Colby’s palm again, traced the scar above the heel. It had plainly been a clean cut, straight, but deep enough to leave a mark once healed.

 Colby did that familiar nose-scrunch at him, the one that meant you won’t like this story. “You won’t like this story. But it wasn’t that bad.”

 “Tell me? If you want,” he amended. Not an order, not a demand. The freckle near Colby’s collarbone winked at him, playing peek-a-boo with the loose neck of Jason’s shirt.

 “Oh, of course. It’s hardly a secret.” Colby wiggled salve-smeared fingers at him. “So we were living in Paris then—Dad having been appointed as an ambassador and all, you know…”

 The storied instrument of his voice became, for an instant, more American than anything else, on the word Dad; Howard Kent personified the type of United States politician who embodied privilege, money, and self-interest above everything, including his marriage and his son.

 “…and my parents, being, er, my parents, did tend to do things like go on holiday without remembering that I existed, which meant the staff also generally forgot I existed, or took their cues from my parents, or assumed someone else had made some arrangements somewhere. So I was eleven and a bit, and I’d got used to making sandwiches and things, but I thought perhaps I’d try to cook, because I was trying to learn, you know, so I wouldn’t have to bother anyone.”

 Jason opened his mouth. Shut it.

 Colby lifted both eyebrows, inviting and amused. “Yes, go on, say it.”

 “You know everything I’m gonna say.”

 “I do. It’s all right; I’ve got you now.” Colby leaned against him, on the bed: easy contact, unremarkable, except for how it was remarkable, it was a marvel, given everything Jason knew.

 He wanted to cry for the boy Colby’d been, precocious and shy and so very alone.

 He held Colby’s hand. “I’m here. I’m always here. I’ll chop all your carrots if you need me to.”

 “You would, if I asked, wouldn’t you? Well, in any case, I managed to slice my hand open, as you might expect under the circumstances, and then I very nearly passed out from the sheer shock of it, and then after a few minutes I pulled myself together and found a first-aid kit and tried to patch it up, though it didn’t work terribly well because I was trying to do it one-handed.”

 “Jesus, Colby.” He could’ve demanded, why didn’t you call someone, a member of the security team, the household staff, a doctor, an emergency number, your parents? He didn’t.

 He knew why Colby wouldn’t. Not causing a fuss, not giving anyone a reason to disapprove or to not want him, not believing anyone would come or answer or care…

  His heart cracked open and bled more. Like younger Colby, huddled on a kitchen floor with a first-aid kit. “What happened?”

[ejzah]

A/N: This idea was originally suggested by @mashmaiden and is the next in a series about Deeks at FLETC, but deviates from canon. I put took me a very long time to figure out and I’m still not sure if I am fully happy with it.

In a previous fic, an instructor had asked Deeks to speak on his experience when he was tortured by Sidorov. Since this deals with some events from Descent/Ascension, there is mention of violence, trauma, and PTSD symptoms.

***

A Matter of Experience

Deeks let out a very long breath as he waited for other students to arrive. After a lot of consideration, he had decided to grant Flores’ “offer”. He still absolutely hated the idea, but he knew he was technically doing Flores a favor. Plus, Flores wasn’t wrong. Most of the current candidates had never experienced anything as traumatic as he had.

He hoped they never would.

The night before he’d spent a couple hours going over a rough draft of his presentation. Deeks had also covered some ground rules with Flores. Although he had no control over what questions his classmates would ask, he reserved the right to refuse to answer.

Pulling in another long breath, he closed his eye and rolled his neck a couple of times.

“You ok, Deeks?” Flores asked, actually looking concerned. He had an odd mixture of ruthlessness and deep understanding which didn’t necessarily work well together.

“Yeah, fine. I’m good.” He felt vaguely queasy and restless, but he wasn’t about to tell Flores that. “We never discussed what I should do if no one has questions,” he added. “Do you have a back up lecture?”

“Oh believe me, there’s always questions with this case. We’ll be lucky if we get out on time.” He seemed to realize that he sounded a little insensitive. “Based on what I’ve heard about you, you can handle this Deeks. But if you changed your mind, I won’t judge you.”

That strange feeling of embarrassment returned, but he didn’t have time to evaluate it or respond to Flores as other students started trickling in.

Deeks had purposely chosen a chair to the side and a few rows in where he wouldn’t be too obvious, but could get up without too much trouble. Flores gave them a couple minutes to settle and then walked to the front of the room.

“Good Morning, everyone. I hope you’re all managing your classes alright,” he said. “For today’s class we will be focusing on case study 9.”

He paused as the majority of the class flipped to the appropriate page. Deeks’ pulse pounded faintly in his ears and he swallowed twice, closing his eyes briefly. Even if the details weren’t burned into his memory, he’d reviewed the case, just to be sure he wasn’t caught off guard.

It was surprisingly straightforward, not overly gratuitous and Flores reviewed the details with surprising speed. There was no getting past the pictures though. They were graphic, nauseating. He knew the exact moment everyone saw them and heard someone behind him whisper his name.

When Flores ended the lecture, which was over much faster than Deeks would have liked, he nodded to Deeks and added,

“Now some of you may know that one of your colleagues was involved in this case and he was kind enough to agree to share his experiences with us.” Deeks stood up, joining Flores at the front of the room. “Please welcome Marty Deeks, former LAPD Detective.” Flores gave him what he guessed was supposed to be a supportive pat on the arm and then sat down a few feet away.

It was clear that many of the candidates hadn’t made the connection between him and the battered guy in their text book, but as he glanced around, realized that maybe half the class were watching him with the same strange reverence Omar, Jake, and Charlie had when they first met.

Clearing his throat, he pulled in yet another shallow breath and glanced down at the small stack of notecards in his hand, then stuffed them in his pocket.

“As, uh, Instructor Flores said, I’m Marty Deeks,” he started, pausing to clear his throat again. “But most people just call me Deeks. If any of you have spent more than a few minutes around me, you’ve probably figured out that I have a terrible habit of talking too much.”

A couple people chuckled, but most stayed silent, some looking curious, others intrigued, and a few, mainly Alan, outright suspicious. He’d expected some skepticism since, as usual, he didn’t fit into the mold they expected.

“Like it says in that case study, Agent Hanna and I were captured and held by a Russian arms dealer. They took turns torturing us-“ He swallowed harshly, holding back the shiver that crept up his spine and continued. “to gain information about a colleague who was undercover.

“They had us in separate rooms, but I could still see what they were doing to Agent Hanna. I couldn’t do anything though because I was bound to a chair. I could only watch as they electrocuted him and wait to see what else they had planned for me.”

Before he could continued, Alan raised his hand, his gaze almost defiant and angry as he waited for him to respond.

“Did you have a question?” Deeks asked mildly.

“What was it like?” he said, watching Deeks eagerly, and maybe with a touch of disbelief in his voice as he eyed him. “The case study mentioned that you experienced dental trauma, but it didn’t really go into detail.”

Flores started to intercede from behind him, but Deeks held up a hand, holding him back. If Alan wanted details, he could give him details. He’d avoided the guy as much as possible and put his arrogance and aggressiveness down to immaturity, but now Deeks was truly annoyed.

“No it’s ok.” He smiled tightly at Alan. “One guy shoved this metal device in my mouth so I couldn’t close it. Then Sidorov got out a drill and demanded to know the truth. The whole time I was lying my ass off, trying to keep it together even though I knew he was going to stick that thing in my mouth.”

His breath hitched a little as he felt the phantom pain of the drill bit obliterating his teeth. Someone swore under their breath and Deeks felt perverse satisfaction when Alan squirmed uncomfortably.

Forcing the memories back, he took a couple of slow breaths and then added,

“I ended up with multiple broken teeth, damage to my mandible, and shredded gums-so yeah, dental trauma as they so nicely put it.” Maybe that was going a step too far, but it seemed pointless and Flores had wanted them to know what it was really like. “It took years for me to stop flinching when I heard a drill or to make it through getting my teeth cleaned without almost knocking the hygienist’s lights out. To this day, it’s probably the single most horrific thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Everyone’s eyes were on him, the anticipation and tension almost tangible. A woman-he thought her name was possibly Maria-raised her hand and Deeks nodded for her to speak. Unlike some of her peers, she wasn’t staring at him like he was a particularly interesting soap opera.

“You said it took you years to get over the trauma,” she started a little hesitantly. “Exactly how long did it take?”

“I wish I could tell you that there’s a point when it no longer affects you, but it never really happens,” Deeks said with a gentle smile, sorry he couldn’t give her the answer she so clearly wanted. He saw her face fall and he realized just how young she was and probably pretty horrified at this point. “The memories and dreams and all the other symptoms can lessen over time. They never go away though. That trauma, those scars, they are with you forever.”

“So you’re saying there’s nothing we can do about it?” Another student asked, sounding annoyed and maybe a little scared. “If something like this happens to us, we just live with the trauma for the rest of our lives.”

Deeks shook his head.

“No, there’s a lot you can do. Go to therapy, let the people you love help you, and whatever you do, don’t isolate yourself.” A memory of eating bad takeout with Kensi when he was at his lowest point and added, “Whatever you do, don’t try to face if alone. Believe me, your friends and family will be everything.”

The questions continued for the remainder of the class and as Flores predicted, they went over by 15 minutes. Deeks was completely exhausted and a little shaky, but overall not as much as he had expected. He would probably pay the price for being so explicit about his injuries with a resurgence of nightmares.

“Nice work,” Instructor Flores complimented him as he was packing up his notes and untouched book. “I didn’t expect you to be that...open.”

Deeks grimaced, realizing that he’d basically taken over the class and gone completely off script from what they discussed.

“Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away.”

“No, you got the point across. And that’s what they needed.” Flores patted his arm and nodded his appreciation. “Thank you.”

Deeks left the room, intending to skip lunch and go straight to bed until his next class. Maybe he’d get in a quick call to Kensi. The sound of her voice sounded very appealing and comforting right now. He was about halfway down the hall when someone called out,

“Deeks!” He groaned, recognizing Alan’s distinctive voice and turned as he approached, not up for dealing with him at the moment. He stopped a couple feet from Deeks, eyeing him warily.

“Was Everything you said in there true?” he asked and Deeks rolled his eyes, huffing out an exasperated sigh.

“No, Alan. I just made it up so I could get free implants,” Deeks answered derisively. “Now are you done trying to intimidate me? Talking about the guys who drilled holes in my mouth is a little bit exhausted.”

Alan flinched, but didn’t back down.

“I wasn’t trying to insult you.” He glared at Deeks as though he’d done something wrong.

“So implying that I embellished a case to make myself sound better isn’t an insult?” Alan muttered a fairly creative curse under his breath and then said,

“I’m sorry for what I said the first time we met. I was wrong about you, ok?” He shook his head, jaw clenched like the words were almost painful for him to say. Looking at the ground, he admitted, “Look, I’m struggling with a lot of the courses.”

“And you’re telling this to the guy you hate because...?” Deeks asked, not overly surprised to hear that Alan wasn’t doing well. He’d heard quite a few stories about him clashing with instructors among other things.

“Because I need help and you seem to actually know what you’re doing,” Alan said bluntly, apparently past his embarrassment. “So what do I need to do?”

Deeks blinked at him for a second, resisting the urge to laugh. Even in a moment of crisis, the guy was still making demands.

“Well one thing that I always have to remind myself about is to not let yourself get cocky.“

Alan gave him an incredulous look and shook his head.

“What? That’s your expert advice? Don’t be cocky.”

“A piece of it. It’s easy to get full of yourself. I do it all the time, but there’s always room to grow. New things to learn,” Deeks told him with a shrug.

“What could you possibly have to learn?” Alan asked acerbically. “I’ve seen you in most of these classes and you don’t even break a sweat. It’s freaking annoying.”

Deeks actually did laugh then and nodded.

“I do have a lot of experience. Like you pointed out, I’m the old guy.” Alan didn’t look amused so he sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Look, if you want you can join the study sessions I have with some of other guys. But if you do, you need to lose the attitude because there’s not time for that.”

Alan clenched his jaw, but nodded in apparent agreement.

“I’ll think about it.” With that he turned abruptly, adding a terse, “Thanks.” As he walked away.

Deeks just watched him go, shaking his head, and glanced down at his watch. If he hurried he could maybe just squeeze in a half hour nap and the call to Kensi.

***

A/N: I know this one ends a little abruptly, but I figure I’ll be writing more in this series.

[no6secretsanta]

Don't Say It

Hello and happy holidays to you, @glorifiedscapegoat! I hope you enjoy this cheerful little modern AU fic I wrote for you! I always love writing Nezumi and Shion as carefree teens in a world that isn’t trying to destroy them (we all deserve some peace this year, even the bee boys), and I promise a happy ending!

<3 @weiselzelle

******

For someone who disliked Christmas as much as he did, Nezumi had decorated an awful lot of Christmas cookies, six dozen, to be precise. He’d also listened to the Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack four times in a row, going on a fifth. Soon, he’d be watching an equally cheesy Christmas movie. It wasn’t by choice. Not exactly, anyway—

It had all started in kindergarten, the year he’d met Shion. They’d become fast friends, and the prospect of not seeing his best friend over winter break had been too much for Shion’s young heart to bear. As a solution, their parents had arranged a playdate over the holidays. Shion had been determined to celebrate Christmas with Nezumi as much as possible, so their day had included as many Christmastime activities as possible. The experience, quite frankly, had been exhausting. Unfortunately, it had only been the start of a long tradition.

Now, if Nezumi had things his way, they’d simply do what they always did when they hung out and nothing extra… but intentionally ignoring Christmas would make Shion sad, which defeated the entire purpose of spending a day together. That was why Nezumi put up with the whole ordeal year after year, and this time was no different.

“So, you still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas,” Shion said as he delicately placed some of the cookies into a shiny, festive tin. “And you can’t say ‘I’ll think on it’ this time, okay? Christmas is in a few days.”

Nezumi picked up a pinch of snowflake sprinkles from a dish and dropped them unceremoniously onto an iced cookie. “I’ll think—”

Shion glared at him before he could even finish the sentence, and Nezumi couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay, listen, I know I said I’d think on it, but the truth is, I forgot. You know how busy I was before break started,” Nezumi explained.

Shion’s expression softened and he returned to decorating cookies alongside Nezumi. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I didn’t bug you about it sooner. But I really do need an answer today.”

“Well…” Nezumi sighed and looked off. “How about you tell me what you want? I still have to get you a present, and maybe it’ll give me some ideas for what I want, too.” He normally prided himself— secretly— in coming up with clever gifts for Shion, but with Christmas in only a few days, simply asking seemed like his best option.

“Me? Um!” Shion seemed awfully surprised by the question. Judging by the growing blush on his face, however, it was more than just surprise.

Nezumi smirked and leaned closer to his friend. “You’re blushing, Shion. Is it something really dorky?”

Shion looked down, clearly hesitating. “Uh, you’d probably call it that, yeah…”

Nezumi waited for Shion to say more. “…Well? What is it?” he asked, and raised an eyebrow.

“Um…” Shion smiled nervously and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, still not looking at Nezumi.

Once again, Nezumi sighed. “You’re going to make me guess, aren’t you?”

“I suppose you could try,” Shion replied quietly with a small shrug. His face was as red as ever.

Nezumi smirked. “I’ll take that as a challenge.” He rubbed his chin as he thought. “Hmm, something so dorky that you’d blush about it in front of me… This may be difficult.”

While Nezumi thought about where to start his questioning, Shion began to slowly decorate another cookie.

“Can it fit in a backpack?” Nezumi asked, watching Shion’s expression closely.

“No.”

“What about a locker, then?”

Shion blinked, his eyebrows drawing together slightly. “Um… no? I don’t think so, anyway.”

“And you think I can afford it?” Nezumi asked with a laugh.

“I mean—” Shion laughed as well, though rather nervously. “Y-Yeah.”

Nezumi gave a skeptical look. “You sure about that?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay…” Nezumi picked up one of the cookies he’d decorated and took a bite as he thought. “Is it… something I even know exists?”

Shion laughed a little again. “Yes.” It was the most certain answer he’d gotten yet.

“Okay, so it’s something I obviously know about, judging by that reaction,” Nezumi scoffed. “It’s something that could be put in a box, right?”

“W-Well, I guess so…”

Nezumi frowned. “I mean that it’s an actual object, not like the gift of going somewhere with you or whatever.”

“I guess we could go somewhere for my present,” Shion suggested with a smile Nezumi could only call coy. Of course, very few people even could recognize coyness from Shion. Nezumi knew, though. Shion was up to something.

Nezumi narrowed his eyes. “Second thoughts about challenging me?”

“We could go ice skating again. It’s been years since we last went.”

“We could not go ice skating again,” Nezumi retorted. “I’m not having you pull me down on the ice every five minutes.”

“You are taller than me now, aren’t you?”

Nezumi eyed Shion suspiciously. His latest growth spurt had been a bit of a sore spot for Shion, so why would he bring it up now? “I sure as hell am, you little runt.”

Shion’s blush fully returned and he averted his eyes. “S-So, that means I wouldn’t make you fall if I lost my balance, right?”

Crossing his arms, Nezumi leaned back in his seat. “I see… Finding the advantages to being your fun-sized self?”

“You know, I never made fun of you this much when you were the shorter one,” Shion said, slathering a bit too much icing onto a large, snowflake-shaped cookie.

Nezumi watched as Shion then dumped an excess of sprinkles onto the cookie. “Oh, come on. You always thought I needed to be protected or something when I was smaller than you, even though you knew I could’ve kicked your ass no problem. I’m going to enjoy this change as much as I wa—”

Shion abruptly shoved the cookie into Nezumi’s mouth, or at least as much of it as he could fit. As soon as it happened, Nezumi cupped his hand under the cookie in a desperate attempt to catch the sprinkles and dripping icing. While Nezumi struggled to eat the messy cookie that was now his responsibility not to get everywhere, Shion returned to decorating more cookies.

“And what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t care about your safety?” Shion asked, though he clearly wasn’t expecting an answer from Nezumi, not after shoving food into his mouth. “Anyway, I think ice skating would work out better now, so— ah!”

Nezumi smeared the icing that had dripped onto his hand across Shion’s cheek. “Here, you dropped something.”

Shion stared in shock for a moment before swiping a bit of icing from the bowl onto his fingertip. Nezumi had a good idea of where that finger was headed. As it drew closer to his face, he opened his mouth and caught Shion’s sugary finger between his teeth. The icing was sweet on his tongue, but Nezumi savored the expression on his friend’s face far more.

“Nezumi!” Shion squeaked when his finger was finally free.

“Yes?”

Shion gawked at his hand as if he’d never seen it before.

“…Yes, Shion?” Nezumi asked again.

“Um!” Shion blinked and shook his head. “W-We should both probably wash our hands before we decorate any more cookies,” he stammered.

Nezumi snorted out a laugh and followed Shion over to the kitchen sink. While he waited for his turn at the faucet, he bumped Shion’s hip with his own. For some reason, that always put a smile on Shion’s face. “Back to my guesses. Is it something I can buy?” he asked.

“Uh, n-no,” Shion replied, his eyes going wide. He turned away as he dried his hands.

“So it’s something I have to make, then?” Nezumi asked.

“N… No.”

“No?” Nezumi finished washing his hands and dried them off as well, thinking over what Shion could be talking about. If it couldn’t be bought and couldn’t be made… “Is it something I already have?”

“Uh…” Shion scratched the back of his neck and returned to the kitchen counter as if decorating even more cookies was an actual priority. “Technically?”

Nezumi scoffed and crossed his arms. “Technically?” he repeated. “What the hell kind of answer is that?”

Shion stared down at a star-shaped cookie he’d picked up. “Um… uh… I say ‘technically’ because…”

“Because…?”

“Well… technically you… have… what I want…” Shion mumbled, trailing off. He set down the cookie and smiled nervously, his eyes focused on Nezumi’s shoulder rather than his face. “Forget I said anything, okay? I like your ice skating idea. How about we do that for my present?”

Nezumi frowned to himself and ripped off a paper towel from the roll by the sink. “That was your idea, not mine,” he corrected, briefly running the faucet again to get the paper towel wet. He approached Shion and began wiping the icing off his cheek. “You forgot something.”

Shion shut his eyes while Nezumi cleaned off his face. “I did? Ha, oops, I guess I did…”

Somehow, exchanges like this made Nezumi dread their inevitable separation that would come with graduating high school. He didn’t like the idea of someone else helping Shion the way he did, taking his place… Would Shion even have him over during the holidays? How many more Christmases would they spend together?

“Hey, Shion?”

Shion peeked an eye open. “Yeah?”

Nezumi turned away to toss the paper towel in the trash and to avoid looking Shion in the eye. “You’re still going to invite me over for Christmas stuff once we’re in college, right?” he asked.

“Huh?” Shion blinked. “Y-Yeah, of course.”

“Good.”

Shion laughed a little and smiled sheepishly. “You know, I was starting to think you didn’t like celebrating Almost-Christmas with me. I’m sort of surprised, given how much you usually complain about Christmas…”

Nezumi let out a laugh as well and leaned his elbows on the counter. “I mean—” The gentle smile on Shion’s face kept him from finishing his sentence. He glanced away.

“Wait, Nezumi, do you secretly like Christmas?” Shion asked, just a hint of a giggle in his tone.

“What? No! I hate Christmas!”

The amusement left Shion’s face. “Oh. Um… Does that mean you don’t actually like doing Christmas stuff with me?”

Nezumi’s stomach sank. He hated seeing Shion sad. Why did he have to say that? “Okay, ‘hate’ may have been too strong of a word. I don’t hate Christmas. Not all of it, anyway,” he quickly explained. “I— Listen, I wouldn’t do this for anyone else, okay?”

Shion fell silent, staring down at the array of cookies before him and chewing his lip. After a long moment, he spoke again. “You know, we don’t have to keep doing the same stuff every year. Honestly, I just kept doing it because it’s what we’ve always done, and you kept agreeing to it, but I… I guess we don’t have to do anything Christmasy if you really don’t want to.”

“I mean, we are gonna hang out over break either way, aren’t we?” Nezumi said, though he knew in his heart that wasn’t what Shion wanted. Shion enjoyed the holiday season and all the pepperminty sweetness that it brought far too much to ignore it all with Nezumi. “Maybe if it’s just… a little less Christmasy,” he offered. His eyes darted around the room, searching for examples of anything seasonal that didn’t make him cringe. “Like… hot cocoa. I like hot cocoa. And I like eating Christmas cookies, just not, you know… decorating several dozen of them.”

Once again, Shion took a long while to respond. Nezumi might’ve been concerned if he didn’t know his friend so well; he knew it meant Shion was deeply considering his words. Besides, having Shion react logically rather than emotionally right now was preferable, albeit expected. After taking a hesitant breath, Shion asked, “Is ice skating too Christmasy?”

Nezumi breathed out a laugh. Of course their discussion had come back to this. “It’s an Olympic sport. I think that exempts it from being too Christmasy,” he replied. Skating really could turn out better than before, if Shion’s reasoning about his height was correct… Compared to watching a Christmas movie, it might actually be fun. “Listen, I’ll take you ice skating right now if it means we skip everything else on today’s itinerary.”

Shion blinked in surprise, finally looking up at Nezumi. “Y-You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

Shion gawked, then shook his head and said, “Um, right! I’ll— I’ll go tell mom what we’re doing!”

Nezumi laughed as Shion hurried out of the room. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he commented, though he knew Shion had to be on the other side of the house, already and well out of earshot.

Before long, the two boys were buckling into Nezumi’s car, which was parked outside. Nezumi smirked to himself as he turned the key and started the engine. The satisfaction of having a license and a car had yet to wear off.

“It’s still weird that we can just drive places now, isn’t it?” Shion commented, running his fingers along the car door just below the window. “I’ve barely used my bike this year.”

“You mean that I can drive us places now?” Nezumi teased. “Seriously, when are you going to take your test?”

Shion shrugged. “I don’t know. Driving is kind of terrifying,” he said with a small laugh. “Besides, I kind of like…”

Nezumi raised an eyebrow, giving Shion an inquisitive look before pulling out of the driveway and heading down the road. “You kind of like what? You know you can’t just trail off like that.”

“Um.” Shion laughed a little again. “Well, I was going to say that I kind of like when you drive me around, but that sounds sort of entitled, doesn’t it?”

Nezumi scoffed. “Yeah, it kind of does.” Still, he couldn’t help but feel smug.

“I mean it as a good thing, though,” Shion explained. “Actually, I… I really am scared of driving. It’s not that it’s too difficult, it’s just— but—” His sentence sputtered to a halt. Shion forced out an exhale and tried again. “I’m afraid I’ll really mess up and hurt someone, or worse…” He shook his head to himself. “But… when I’m with you, I feel safe. I trust you.”

“Well. Maybe I like driving you around. So it all works out.”

Sure, Shion would eventually have to bite the bullet and get over his fear. For now, though… This was fine, perhaps even preferable. If Shion had a license, Nezumi could easily picture him having a personal crisis over a fender-bender or an unlucky squirrel’s demise. Yes, perhaps this was for the best.

Shion turned his head away, and Nezumi knew that meant either Shion was blushing or something very interesting that only Shion could see was on the side of the road. “Y-Yeah, at least until we graduate. Unless we go to college in the same place…”

They hadn’t discussed college much yet, surprisingly. Nezumi knew Shion planned to go to medical school to become a doctor, but that was about it. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to do, himself.

“I’m not going to med school with you,” Nezumi laughed.

“Well— just hold on a second, that’s not what I meant,” Shion protested. “I’ve been thinking about this. As long as the school you pick has a pre-med track, I’ll go there.”

They slowed to a stop at a red light. The contrarian part of Nezumi ached to argue with Shion’s suggestion, but he’d secretly been hoping for something like this. He hadn’t let himself think too much about going to college with Shion to save himself the disappointment, but now the possibility was very real.

“…Only if you want that, of course,” Shion added. Nezumi’s silence must have been a blow to his confidence.

The light changed, and Nezumi pressed his foot on the gas pedal. “You’re going to save me from the torture of rooming with a total stranger? Seems like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

“I— er, you mean you like my idea?” Shion stammered. “Really?”

Nezumi shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”

Shion fiddled with the cuffs of his jacket sleeves instead of looking at Nezumi. “I… I guess sometimes I worry that you’ll get sick of me.”

“Unlikely.”

“What?” Shion looked up. “Really? Because sometimes you get really annoyed with me…”

Shion wasn’t exactly wrong. It had been much worse a few years before, when Nezumi was still grappling with the complicated mess of new emotions he felt toward Shion. It wasn’t the proudest time of his life. “When’s the last time I got seriously annoyed with you, though? I can’t remember,” Nezumi replied.

“Um… I believe it was last year, when we were discussing—”

“It was a rhetorical question, Shion,” Nezumi interrupted. “The point is, you’ve had over ten years to do anything truly unforgivable and you haven’t even come close, which makes you a pretty solid candidate for a college roommate, in my opinion.”

“What about that time at the homecoming dance?” Shion asked.

Nezumi blinked, furrowing his eyebrows. “What the hell are you talking about, Shion?”

“Back in eighth grade, I tried to do some kind of dance a bunch of other people were doing, and you looked me in the eye and said ‘truly unforgivable.’ Remember?”

“I—” Nezumi laughed and shook his head. “I may have overreacted. I hardly remember it.”

“So you aren’t even a little mad about that anymore?” Shion asked.

“No? Why would I be?”

Shion shrugged and sighed, which was a rather unusual gesture from his friend. “I know it hasn’t happened in a while, but you at least used to get mad at me for random stuff, sometimes for a long time. I can’t help but worry you might still be mad about some of those things.”

Nezumi was grateful for the excuse of watching the road so he didn’t have to look at Shion for this discussion. He’d thought they could just move on from that bumpy patch in their friendship without talking about it, but apparently that was not the case. He should have expected as much. “Would you believe me if I told you it was all just a lot of mood swings?”

“If you promised that’s the truth, then yeah, I’d believe you.”

Nezumi resisted the urge to sigh himself. “It’s the truth,” he replied. At least, it was the closest he was willing to get to the truth. He didn’t intend to give out any love confessions today. “I swear I’m not mad at you about any of that old stuff. I’m not mad at you about anything.”

“Really?”

“For now, anyway. I’m sure you could piss me off if you really tried.”

Shion giggled a little. “Okay, I’ll try not to worry about it.”

Nezumi turned into the parking lot outside the skating rink and easily found an empty spot. After they parked, Shion quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, but Nezumi locked the doors and kept his finger on the button to do it again if necessary. Shion looked over at him in surprise.

“Before we go in,” Nezumi explained, “you have to tell me what you want for Christmas.”

Shion gave him a grumpy pout. “I thought going skating was my present,” he argued, fiddling with the lock on his door. 

“You know what I’m talking about. Whatever thing I apparently already have that you want. If it’s a sentimental thing, there’s no guarantee I even have it anymore. I don’t save stuff like you do.”

“Well…” Shion averted his eyes, his cheeks growing pink. “I guess I already got what I wanted.”

Nezumi paused, looking ahead as he thought. “…Wait, you wanted to be college roommates for your Christmas present?”

“N-No, not exactly, but— well, yes, it’s basically the same thing.”

“Is it or isn’t it?” Nezumi unbuckled his seatbelt and turned more towards Shion, watching his friend closely. Either Shion was choosing his words carefully or he was planning to bolt from the car.

“I-It’s—” Shion hesitated. “It’s… Nezumi, all I want for Christmas is—”

The pieces came together as Shion spoke, and time slowed down as a terrible realization struck Nezumi. He immediately covered Shion’s mouth with his hand. “Don’t say it!”

The outburst shocked them both into a silence that stretched on for several seconds. Finally, Shion pulled Nezumi’s hand off of his mouth. “What?”

Nezumi felt heat rise from his neck up to his ears. This was going to be difficult to explain. “I-I… You were going to say the name of a Christmas song, weren’t you?”

Shion blinked, then replied, “Oh, y-yeah, I guess so. Um…”

Nezumi had to think fast. He hadn’t thought this conversation would be happening today, or even at all, and it was already off to a rough start. He wasn’t even entirely sure what Shion meant by that kind of request. “Listen,” Nezumi began to explain, though he didn’t really know what he was about to say. He kept talking anyway. “If… if, let’s say, this ends up being something people might ask us about later, I’d rather it not be a reminder of an annoying Christmas song. If what you’re asking for is what I think you’re asking for.”

Shion’s face had turned bright red and his wide, dark eyes were focused on Nezumi’s hands. “Um. What do you think I’m asking for, Nezumi?”

Nezumi almost passed the question right back to Shion, but maybe Shion really couldn’t bring himself to say it. The suave thing to do in this moment would be to answer Shion’s question with a kiss, but Nezumi’s doubts kept him from acting. He settled for a response somewhere in the middle. “It sounds to me like you want a boyfriend for Christmas,” he replied as casually as he could.

Shion didn’t respond, nor did he move. He sat there, frozen in place, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

“…Just nod if I’m right.”

Shion took a small, sharp breath and nodded ever so slightly. Nezumi had never seen his friend look so terrified in his life.

If there had ever been a time to kiss Shion, this was it.

Nezumi had never kissed anyone before, only stage-kissed a few people in drama class, but he reasoned it couldn’t be too different from the real thing. Gently lifting Shion’s chin with one hand, Nezumi leaned closer, lightly closed his eyes, and touched his lips to Shion’s. An odd thrill ran down his spine, which certainly never happened with a thumb in the way— or more likely, with anyone else. 

A second later, he felt a jolt of pain as Shion pressed back too hard, too quickly. Nezumi jerked away and pressed his fingers to his aching lip. “Ow—”

Shion quickly pulled back with a look of absolute horror on his face. “I-I’m so sorry!” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Nezumi said with a small laugh. “Just— hold still this time.”

Ignoring the pain in his lip, Nezumi leaned closer again. Shion shut his eyes and held his breath. Nezumi lingered just inches away for a moment, then withdrew slightly.

“You… do want me to do this, right?” Nezumi asked.

Shion opened his eyes and looked up at Nezumi briefly before averting his gaze and nodding. “I— That is, only if you want to—”

They’d just crossed a new boundary together, and yet they were both afraid to take a single step further. Something about it was utterly ridiculous, but Nezumi couldn’t blame Shion for acting so nervous. After all, if this change ended up being a mistake, there probably wouldn’t be any going back. From what Nezumi understood about the world, lovers could rarely return to just being friends. Could he really risk their entire friendship? Was it already too late to turn back?

Why hadn’t he thought of this before kissing Shion the first time?

“Are you okay?” Shion asked quietly, meeting Nezumi’s gaze for only a split second. “You’re shaking.” His fingers carefully wrapped around Nezumi’s trembling hand.

“You’re shaking,” Nezumi whispered in retort.

“Y-Yeah, but it’s weird for you to be shaking like this,” Shion replied. He wasn’t wrong.

“So what?”

What kind of answer was that?

“Nezumi…” With a sad expression that was meant to be a smile, Shion turned his head away, breaking the tension and leaving Nezumi with an unpleasant sense of disappointment. “I… It’s okay if you don’t want to—”

“That’s not the— listen, Shion,” Nezumi argued. He didn’t dare pull his hand away from Shion’s gentle grasp. “What if this doesn’t work out? Then what? Do you really think everything would just go back to normal? That we’d just go back to being friends?”

A series of expressions crossed Shion’s face before he spoke, and Nezumi wasn’t entirely sure what any of them meant. “We’ve stuck together through everything so far, so I can’t imagine we wouldn’t be able to find a way to get along,” Shion said with a slight smile. “Besides… I really think… this could work out.”

Maybe Shion was being too much of an optimist, but Nezumi had considered that exact possibility before. Maybe they could get through anything together. None of their past disputes had been enough to damage their friendship. His doubts were losing their ground.

“And… what’s the point of acting like we don’t want more from each other now that we know?” Shion added softly, staring down at their joined hands as if looking anywhere else would cause him to lose what courage he had left. “I… I really love being with you, Nezumi.” He’d said that phrase to him many times before, but Nezumi finally understood what Shion was actually trying to say. “I always have,” Shion added, then let out a shaky sigh and briefly glanced up. “…Please say something.”

Nothing felt right to say, but Nezumi had to say something. He couldn’t leave Shion to doubt himself all over again in his silence. With his free hand, he lifted Shion’s chin so their faces were level once more. “Stay still, alright?”

Shion immediately complied, closing his eyes in anticipation of what was to come. If it wasn’t so cruel to make Shion wait, Nezumi would’ve taken a moment to enjoy the blissful expression on his friend’s face. Summoning his own courage, Nezumi leaned in and gave Shion a careful kiss. Shion’s fingers tightened around his hand in response, but he otherwise stayed perfectly still. Nezumi drew back and Shion’s eyes fluttered open, and slowly, a wide smile spread across Shion’s flushed face. Nezumi couldn’t quite stop himself from grinning as well. The thrill of the moment was still sinking in, even after it was over.

“So, um.” Shion sheepishly ducked his head and held Nezumi’s hand with both of his own. “What do you want for Christmas?”

“Hm. Pretty much the same thing as you, I think,” Nezumi answered with the casual shrug of a shoulder. The hand that had been touching Shion’s face came to rest on Shion’s knee, causing him to jump slightly, but neither of them moved away. An unexpected sense of freedom was settling in… the freedom to show his true affections after all this time.

Shion looked up with an embarrassed smile. “Okay, but I like giving you presents. Is there anything else you want?”

“Who says I don’t like giving you presents?” Nezumi scoffed.

“Well, you said you hate Christmas, didn’t you?” Shion replied, visibly confused. “And you’ve complained plenty of times about how trivial you think Christmas gifts are. I thought you would have just stopped giving anyone presents by now if you’re so against them.”

Nezumi sighed through his nose and glanced away. “It’s… complicated,” he tried to explain. “Overall, yes, I think Christmas presents are crap. But this is an exception.” Shion was the exception. Shion somehow always was the exception for him. “It’s… enjoyable to pick out a gift for you, and I know it’s not a wasted effort since you actually appreciate it.”

“I appreciate anything from you,” Shion said far too earnestly.

Nezumi laughed. This was exactly what he had been talking about. “Yeah, I know. It’s—” Instead of editing his words to be a playful jab, he allowed the rest of his thought to leave his lips, “—cute.”

Shion gawked at Nezumi, then covered his beet-red face with both hands. “I-I—!”

“Did I break you?” Nezumi asked with another laugh, using his newly freed hand to ruffle Shion’s soft, brown hair. Making Shion blush had yet to lose its appeal. “Sorry. Well, not really. Have I really never told you you’re cute before?”

“Um!” Shion kept his face covered as he spoke. “N-No, I think you’ve said that every time you’ve seen me dressed up for an event, but I know you were just making fun of me.”

Nezumi hummed thoughtfully. “Was I, though?”

“Wait, were you!?”

“Was I?”

Shion faced forward again and placed his head down in his folded arms on the dashboard. “Argh, which is it!?” he loudly groaned.

Nezumi rarely saw Shion this worked up. He wasn’t sure whether to be proud or sorry. “Is not knowing really that unbearable?” he asked.

“Kind of.”

Nezumi’s eyes scanned over Shion’s hunched, trembling form. His own nervous jitters had thankfully faded away, but Shion case seemed to be the opposite. “Serious question, though… are you going to be able to skate today? You’re shaking like crazy.”

Shion quickly sat up, placed his hands in his lap, and took a deep breath. “I’m fine!” he insisted, though his face was still awfully red and every inch of him shook.

“Are you sure?” Nezumi asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “If you’re that tense on the ice, you’ll definitely fall. What’s the matter, anyway?”

“Nothing!” Shion quickly answered and took another deep breath. “Nothing’s the matter! I’m just— I’m— I’m really happy. And excited.” He let out an anxious laugh. “And a little nervous.”

Nezumi felt his own shoulders relax. Had he been tense, too? “Nervous about what?” he asked.

Shion laughed again. “Um. Well, I did kind of punch your mouth with my face a little.”

“It wasn’t that bad. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“That’s good,” Shion said, giving Nezumi a sheepish glance. “Um. But I’m nervous I’ll do it again. But I— w-want to try—” He looked at Nezumi again, this time with eyes full of hope.

Nezumi opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again and closed his eyes. When he still wasn’t kissed several seconds later, he gestured a hand toward his face and prompted, “Well?”

“What? Oh!”

Once again, Nezumi waited.

“Um, hold still,” Shion murmured and gently grasped both of Nezumi’s hands.

Nezumi complied. A moment later, he felt Shion’s lips gingerly touch his. It was over almost as soon as it happened, just a whisper of a kiss, but it somehow left Nezumi’s nerves buzzing long afterward.

“Was that okay?” Shion asked quietly.

Nezumi opened his eyes and smiled. “Completely painless.”

Shion beamed brighter than the sun overhead.

“Still nervous?” Nezumi asked.

Shion shook his head and looked away, still smiling. “No, not really. Only a little.” He gazed out across the parking lot for a brief moment, then grinned up at Nezumi. “Let’s go skating!”

Nezumi laughed, caught off guard by Shion’s abrupt enthusiasm. “You’re awfully confident all of a sudden,” he teased.

“It’s just that— I realized this will be our first date,” Shion replied. “It’s kind of exciting, you know?”

“You mean all those school dances we went to don’t count?” Nezumi scoffed, still smiling. He knew they didn’t really count. Nezumi had only been Shion’s date to keep him unavailable.

“Um— I didn’t think they did,” Shion said hesitantly. “Do they?”

“Not really, no.” Nezumi smirked as a thought crossed his mind. “Did I ever tell you that Safu called me ‘too possessive’ before the homecoming dance this year?”

Shion covered his face with his hands again and leaned his head against Nezumi’s shoulder. “Oh, jeez… No, you didn’t tell me. What happened?”

“She asked me not to ask you to the dance, and I told her that I’d already asked you and you’d already said yes. Apparently that wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear.”

“Thank you. Again,” Shion mumbled. “I only ever wanted to go with you, anyway.”

A part of Nezumi had always suspected as much, but actually hearing it from Shion gave him a smug sense of satisfaction. He slipped his arm behind Shion in a halfway embrace. “Maybe she’ll finally realize you’re not interested in dating her when she spots us making out at your locker.”

“You’re gonna kiss me at school!?” Shion asked in disbelief.

That wasn’t the takeaway Nezumi had expected Shion to get from his words, but Shion was always like that, surprising him in odd ways. “I might,” Nezumi replied. “You’d better watch out.”

Shion blinked, then smiled and stretched to press a kiss to Nezumi’s cheek. “Then I guess you’d better watch out, too.”

Nezumi turned his head away in an attempt to hide how much a little kiss on the cheek was making him blush. He was going to have to get used to this, wasn’t he? “…Noted.”

Shion giggled at Nezumi’s response, then grinned up at him. “Well, then. Shall we go in?”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

They both exited the car, Nezumi locking the doors before meeting Shion on the other side. They joined hands, and just to make things fair, Nezumi gave Shion a quick kiss on the cheek. For the entire walk across the parking lot toward the ice rink, Shion blushed and giggled while Nezumi wore a smug smile on his face.

If this was what celebrating Christmas with Shion would be like from now on… well, Nezumi certainly didn’t mind.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 106

I know I’ve been on a fluff kick lately, and I’m not even remotely sorry. This chapter started out as an excuse to re-visit an offhand comment from a previous chapter, and ended up with Sophia having the kind of night off I wish I could have.

Thanks go out to @baelpenrose (beta and also creator of our favorite teacher-cum-warlord-cum-teacher), @charlylimph-blog (because no one else could have created the ball of chaotic friendliness that is Charly, nor her strong, silent, and charming partner), @werewolf2578 (because I will never not love Maverick), and @creakingcryptid (for donating faerself and Antoine early on to the cause, and putting up with me in real life.  This entire story, from chapter 1, would never have happened if not for faer, and I’m not even remotely exaggerating about that).

“Lift the right corner a bit more,” Tyche called out. “Yeah - Dammit, Arthur, that’s too high. Bring it down a bit more.”

“Do you want to swap?” he quipped, dropping his side of the large, white sheet to exactly where it had been before.

Ignoring him, Tyche asked Maverick to lower his corner instead, to much greater success. At least satisfied with the results, she turned to me and made a ‘ta-da’ gesture towards their work.

I shook my head at her. “And we need this why?”

“Movie night,” she reminded me needlessly.

“Eyeah. It was kind of my idea.”

“And none of us have been to a proper movie theater in ages.” She had a point there.

“Do we even have a projector?” Maverick asked, grinning, as he walked up.

Arthur, right behind him, grinned almost malevolently before Tyche cut him off with a glare. “I told Charly we were doing a movie night,” she offered by way of explanation.

“She insisted she had popcorn covered,” Arthur ventured carefully. “Do I even want to know?”

Eyes wide, I turned to him. “She didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head. “I asked what that meant, and all I got out of her was a maniacal laugh. By any chance, does she always carry around a cartoon-villain moustache in case she needs to twirl it?”

“And cat ears, yeah,” I confirmed absently. “She really didn’t tell you?”

“I just asked if she got the consoles to actually make popcorn that wasn’t better used as packing material,” he admitted.

Maverick erupted in laughter. “You are in for a treat.”

“Will it poison me?”

“Doubtful,” Tyche shrugged regretfully.

“Hmm. Pity.”

Trying to get somewhat back on topic, I pressed on about the projector. “So, you told Charly we were doing movie night this week, so she is going to… obtain? Steal? Jury-rig a projector?”

“I try not to ask, unlike some people,” Tyche arched an eyebrow defiantly. “Gift horses, mouths, you get it.”

“I doubt she’s stealing one,” Maverick offered. “She’s an engineer. Pretty sure she already had one she made, or is finishing one up as we speak.”

Fair. “What movie did we end up agreeing on?”

Maverick and Arthur answered in unison. “Star Wars.”

“Nuh uh. Nope,” my sister argued. “Repo! The Genetic Opera.”

“I’m with her,” I jerked my finger toward the person not insisting I watch a movie about a war in space while actually on a spaceship.

We continued arguing good-naturedly while getting non-popcorn snacks and drinks together. Arthur, to no small amount of surprise, was putting a very impressive amount of thought and consideration into the arrangement of blankets and pillows on every conceivable seating surface in my living room - some of which I didn’t even recognize and probably didn’t want to know where he got them.  At some point, Derek and Sam arrived, judging by the latter sitting happily next to a moving lump in Arthur’s careful construction and petting my cat.

About the time snacks were ready to be carried into the living room, the door opened to reveal Conor, who abruptly stopped to remove his work boots.  Unfortunately, he was knocked down by a clattering intruder behind him and saved only by the - no joke - knee deep ocean of bedding.  A hinged brass lid and a metal piece of something went flying past his head, revealing the intruder to be Charly. “Hi, guys!” she waved cheerfully. “Don’t worry. Coffey has the projector.”

White teeth flashed in a dark, handsome face as the man in question held up the device. “Her hands were full,” he shrugged before glancing past Conor. “You take movie nights seriously,” he added with an approving nod.

Charly, who I couldn’t remember having even seen wear shoes, had already scrambled over Conor’s laughing form so that she could grab the lid and basket, which she brought along with the enormous pot into my kitchen area. “Popcorn,” she declared, gently slamming the pot on a heating surface.  “As promised. I’m thinking green today.”

“That’s not popcorn,” Arthur pointed out, curiosity etched into every bit of his face.

“Duh, Mr. Farro,” she sputtered. “It’s how we’re going to get popcorn.  The consoles never season it, and it’s always stale, or soggy, or just… not good.  So. I made a whirlypop.” With a clatter, she patted her copper contraption. “It makes absolutely perfect kettle corn, every time. And I can make it whatever color I want, too.”

“It’s really good popcorn,” I confirmed. “She brought some to your fight with Jokul.”

“Of course she did,” he sighed. “I thought you said no selling tickets and no concession stand for that?”

“Doesn’t mean she can’t bring her own, screaming blue popcorn with her,” I held up both hands in surrender. “I couldn’t argue with the logic, and she was the only person there with popcorn, can confirm.” 

When I glanced back at her, I saw what I pretty much expected to see: her handy cartoon-villain moustache was pasted firmly on her face and she was twirling one end in what could only be described as a dastardly fashion. Arthur, on the other hand, was almost sputtering. “I - how? I was facing you, Charly. How?”

“Don’t ask, you probably don’t want to know,” I sighed with a wave of my hand. “Besides, I’m reasonably certain the answer involves a collective hallucination, blood sacrifice, or time travel.”

“Two out of three,” Charly nodded, sounding impressed but not clarifying any further. “So! Everyone ready for- oo! Mini pizzas! - popcorn and Master and Commander?”  A collective groan went up at a third movie being added to our ongoing argument over what we had agreed to watch. “What!? It’s my favorite!”

Maverick explained the conversation we had earlier to those who arrived after. Even having nine people voting now didn’t help: we were still split evenly across all three movies.  In the end, we agreed to take a run at watching all three, but that led to another discussion - what order?  We knew the odds of getting through all three were slim, and nobody wanted theirs to be left out.

Sam finally interrupted us. “If we don’t stay awake through all three, can we watch the last movie on another night?”

My jaw clicked shut mid-argument. Tyche tilted her head, “That makes entirely too much sense.”

With that anticlimactic resolution, we quickly took votes to determine which movies were most popular.  In the end, we ended up with Star Wars first, Master and Commander second, and Repo! last, much to my and Tyche’s chagrin.  At least we weren’t the only ones who voted for it, so I was mollified. Somewhat.

While we were hashing all that out, Charly somehow called upon the popcorn deities and managed to fill nearly every bowl and bucket she could find in my quarters with a rainbow of fluffy kernels. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure how she managed to make that much in roughly fifteen minutes, and when I asked, the only answer I could manage to get from her was “Two out of three, like I said.”

I wasn’t asking after that, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to know if blood magic was involved, honestly.

Antoine arrived right as I was trying to figure out how to fit on the couch, where Maverick and Conor were cuddling and hogging the whole damned thing.  Unfortunately, between the immense quantities of popcorn, blankets, pillows, and people strewn everywhere - and somehow my Christmas lights were carefully hanging from the ceiling, which I had a sneaking suspicion was Derek’s doing - our poor resident therapist looked a bit confused.

I couldn’t help but grin as I waved at the chaos. “Welcome to movie night, apparently. You can sit anywhere except there,” I explained, gesturing at a particular pile of blankets.

“Why not - ah….” he trailed off in understanding as a hand darted out of the ‘pile’ to snag a mini pizza.

“Eyeah, only Mac can sit there, I think. And nobody better be feeding him pizza?” I warned. “Whoever does gets to keep stinky cat for the night while he has tummy trouble.” Turning back toward the couch, I stuck my lip out in a pout. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

“We’re comfy….” Conor whined, hiding what was probably a grin behind Maverick’s head. Rather than sitting up in any capacity, the two were laying down along the entire length of the couch, both their feet sticking off. There was maybe two inches of couch between them and the edge.

While my attention was focused on my boyfriends, two strong hands grabbed each of my arms and tugged me down. With a yelp, I fell across Charly and my sister, both of them giggling. Deliberately, Charly started to pet my hair as clumsily as humanly possible, and the scowl I directed at her set Tyche off in hysterics. When I opened my mouth to protest, popcorn was thrown in.  With another scowl, I surrendered to being draped across both of their laps, with a fluffy blanket spread over me from somewhere.

I still sulked, and ignored that I probably looked like a particularly perturbed cat.  With much determination, I managed to keep a scowl on my face until the first movie started rolling.  It was hard to stay even faux-upset after that, as what ensued was the most laid back night I had enjoyed in longer than I could remember. Seats were stolen every time someone got up for any reason, snacks were eaten and refilled, popcorn got everywhere….

It. Was. Glorious.

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